Monday, April 03, 2006
Don't ever park behind my husband.
So, a few years ago, Willem was up and out of the house at the veritable crack of dawn to teach at the high school. Still sleeping in the house, each in separate rooms mind you, were myself, Emily, and my friend Corey, a classmate who felt that 3 hours was an unreasonable amount of time to commute between classes so he stayed at our house once a week. Twisted logic, I know.

Anyway, we're all sleeping, and Willem comes back into the house after a few minutes to tell Corey, "Look, you don't need to get up, we can deal with it later. But I just backed up into your car and your hood is all scratched up." Willem's vehicle du jour was a phallic symbol on wheels, a big red Dodge Ram, and Corey's was a Neon, perfectly aerodynamically shaped to allow the truck to scrape allllll the way up the hood.

Annoying for Corey? Sure. Embarrassing for Willem? Of course! But no real harm done, just some insurance agents who giggled a lot at the story and then made me tell just one more associate...

Now, fast-forward a bit. Tonight, we're sitting at the dinner table, and let me point out that I just spent a whole day with Emily without any mention of anything unusual. Suddenly she bursts out, "Mom! Dad bonked your car with the Jeep this morning!" And procedes to laugh hysterically. Good times, apparently.

The difference is, now Willem drives a Jeep Cherokee, which is considerably less ballsy and is lower to the ground... so instead of peeling the paint right off the car, he just nudged it a little. I bet if Emily hadn't been there, I'd never have found out.