Marital Bliss

It's early. I just got back from taking Joe in for the day, and I thought I would share that process before I go back to sleep: The alarm goes off around 4:25am, and most of the time I have to slap Joe so that he actually does wake up and/or turn off the alarm. We kind of move around like zombies and don't speak to each other until we get to the car. And oh the car ride is remarkable. First of all, I'm usually the driver. I don't know why because Joe could easily drive, and in fact I almost asked him to this morning until I realized something: I have a helluva lot better luck with hitting the green lights. It's true. So anyway. I strolled on over to the driver's side this morning and got in. As soon as I did, my sense of smell alerted me to the aroma of rotting death. Oh my god. I immediately ask Joe if when he ran out to get gas last night, he locked a fart in the car when he got back. That's right; I said it. And it's not far-fetched - trust me. I believe he was mildly upset that I would suspect such a thing, and stated that it was not him. As I pulled away from the curb, I tried to remember if I brought all the groceries in yesterday, and yes, I did. Finally, Joe asked if it could be where the milk leaked in the trunk, and I dismissed him, as it was a very slight amount of milk. With the windows down, it aired out nicely, and we turned our attention to other things: the radio.

Yes, there is something magical about my car. When it's cool outside (and usually in the very early morning), the volume button on my stereo doesn't work. This is particularly troubling, as it is we never have the foresight to turn it down the night before. So of course, the stereo was blaring this morning, and even my special touch wasn't helping; in fact, I think it was getting louder. I turned it off and then back on a few times. On one of the off intervals, Joe told me that we should get a whole new stereo in the car. I stared at him. He went on to say that yes, a one-disc isn't enough, and we should get something brand new. To this I informed him that if he wants to fix something that doesn't even work 90% of the time, as my stereo does, maybe he should try the sunroof cover (you know, that sliding thing on the inside of the car - yeah, mine is off track and makes a horrible scratching noise when you jerk is shut/open). Joe sat quietly, and I continued to inform him that we would not be getting a new stereo for the car. I don't really remember much after that, except soaring through all the green lights I was hitting. We finally got to base, and as I dropped him off, I jumped out to smell the trunk. Sure enough it was the milk that had spilled. Children, spilling milk in your trunk in the desert is no damn good. Yes, my trunk smells like I cart dead bodies for a living, but I figure why clean it now? I'll just let the heat go ahead and take the smell full circle. Hopefully it will have burned out by this afternoon. And so, the moral of this story is - don't check the trunk in front of your husband, and instead maintain that he farted in the car. Then demand a gift.

Good night.