So I was thinking about what to post next, and I realized I had so many things to choose from. I don't want this blog to become a catalog of things that piss me off (although that is a rich vein to mine from), I want to talk about things I like, things that make me happy, stuff that happens and stories and anecdotes from my past.
I mentioned in the last post that I am constantly retelling my life story in a somewhat condensed form, casually glossing over parts that the average Joe doesn't need to know and just giving the basic outline. Here's one of the bits I leave out of the potted history. This is the story of the infamous roadtrip to Seattle.
Kristy and I had been talking with each other for several months: first online, in AOL chatrooms where we first encountered each other, then on the phone, long, looong phone calls that lasted all night. Many's the time we would wake up to the sound of each other on the other end snoring. I flew to Georgia to visit her around Labor Day, she flew to Lake Stevens to see me at the end of September. I then visited her again around Thanksgiving, during which time we went to Pigeon Forge with her parents and grandfather (with whom we had to share a hotel room). Finally we decided she ought to move to Lake Stevens to be with me... I scoped out condos for her and she made arrangements to move. Finally I flew down to Atlanta the day after Christmas, we rented a U-Haul with a tow dolly, put her car on the dolly and loaded all her furniture and possessions into the truck. Finally on the 28th, we took off. Her father hugged her tearfully, while her mother stood on the porch, arms folded and a look on her face as if a bad smell had just parked itself underneath her nose. I had slighted this woman in the worst way. I had stolen her daughter away from her. I was pure evil.
Bear in mind that I had been driving for a little over a year at this point.
The first part of the journey involved heading to the Akers Mill LensCrafters store she had been running to pick up some faxes. She had had the realtor for the condo fax all the papers to the store and we needed to get them before we came back to Washington. After we got those we drove all day, across Georgia and Alabama, finally ending up in Jackson, Mississippi at the Econo Lodge for the night. Kristy wasn't feeling real special at this point, and this condition was not improved by going to eat at the Shoney's in front of the hotel. Halfway through the meal she disappeared into the bathroom, resurfacing a few minutes later with a look of vomitrociousness on her face. Clearly she was not feeling well. We paid and left and headed for the hotel room.
Once there she esconced herself in the bathroom, and while she did so I went to the convenience store at the Chevron across the street to find flu-type medicine and some Tums and Pepto.
Upon my return I was informed by my sweet girl that a plunger was needed. This was just what I needed to hear. I dutifully went to the front desk and availed myself of said instrument, and went to work in the bathroom. By now she had taken some medicine and was well on her way to feeling better. Once done in the bathroom, I decided to shower and hit the hay as it was now quite late.
So I'm in the shower and getting nice and clean and soapy, singing a little tune as I did so, revelling in the steam, when suddenly I am shocked out of my hot watery reverie by a shower of ice. A whole ice-bucket full of ice comes over the top of the shower curtain followed swiftly by gales of laughter. Clearly Kristy is feeling better, and her sense of humor has returned. I knew she had one, of course, but at this point I didn't quite know what it was like to be on the receiving end of it.
I yelled and complained bitterly for a few seconds and then went back to my showering. I figured "Hey - she just used all the ice, what else could she do?". I didn't know that this was just the tip of the proverbial iceberg.
A couple minutes passed by, and I, suitably refreshed, stepped out of the shower to find that every single towel, washcloth and bathmat had gone from the bathroom. Just as I started to say,"What the...?" I heard the now-familiar gales of laughter coming from the next room.
This was DAY ONE. I did not know what I was in for.
Now, this started out as a road trip story, but turned into a story about my wife's crazy sense of humor. As it is late, and the road trip was a long one, I shall post the next leg of the trip in a future post.