(Previous to this installment of Tow Tales, Decadent Housewife was finally home again after her harrowing experience of, towing cars, of course. Installments 1 - 4 follow DH freewheeling in Violinist's smarty pants car, directing traffic in the back forty and narrowly missing seeing herself enter widowhood. This installment is what happened just after Buff called for help with his own tow woes and is short and sweet, because that was all Decadent could muster up after such a trying day.)
Half an hour later I noticed a gang of teen boys in The Shop from Hell looking for, I suppose, a tow line or chain or rope despite the fact I had mentioned everything was snapped. I suppose now would be as good a time as any to mention that normal people would call The Shop from Hell, a garage, but I don't call it that because we have four cars in the yard, soon to be five and not a one of them INSIDE the garage. So, I call it, The Shop, without the added bit, "from Hell" and besides, that's what we called it on The Farm when we actually DID park a car in there. Can you tell I'm a bit stressed out?
Buff showed up several hours later to eat and drink and be filled and to tell me all about his tow tales, which I had declined to become a party to, making me feel simultaneously like a very bad parent indeed, and not remorseful one bit. Hmmm...is that schizophrenic? At least I recognize that. Anyway, when finished eating, drinking and being filled, for the time being, Buff asked, "What did you do today?"
"...and I pulled the emergency brake, when in fact the cables to the emergency brake were the ones I realized I had never seen before and lay on the metal floor between the front seats. Violinist, apparently, took the brake cables out yesterday, but the van stopped anyway. Your dad remembered to leave me the keys to the presently only working vehicle on the property, upon hearing two horn toots from next door, which reminded him to check his pocket for keys, while on his way out the door to catch his commuter van to work. So. I'm not stuck to go and pick up Violinist and Fun, later tonight from work. And you just finished eating what I spent doing with some of the rest of my time. And, I hope you realize that football would have been less tiring for you and less stressful for me, than what you just spent doing these last three hours."
And then we hugged and kissed and called it a night. But not before I drove to pick up Violinist and Fun from The Winery and had another of our deep Parent-Child commuter conversations while driving in the dark and turned some unfortunate reddish Aardvarky looking creature into road kill and stopped for gas and fed The Cat, again, and fed Fun and Violinist until they were filled and packed lunches and cleaned up the kitchen and did some more laundry, again. This, unfortunately is not the end. (...to be continued...)
Toby at Six Months
5 hours ago