I promised my husband that this week's entry would be about me, so here we are. Honestly, you can scroll through this blog and find plenty of stories starring dumb things I've done. (I linked a couple.) It's just that Ron provides the most material and that's all I'll say about that.
I asked him which story he'd like for me to out myself about today and he started to give me some examples where I become "irrational" over something "stupid." I said "You're naming things that make me justifiably mad. They're not "stupid and I'm not being irrational." He replied, "I think our kids would disagree, not to mention all the Amish."
If he's referring to the weed wacker debacle, he caused that whole thing and it was a few wagons of families, not the Amish community at large. The Amish community at large doesn't wanna hang out with me for different reasons, totally unrelated. And if he's talking about that Amish waitress I had a run in with last Fall, she had it out for me for no reason at all, so we're just gonna leave the Amish completely out of this.
As for our kids, in the interest of fairness, I put out a question in our Close Courters family group chat that read: The answer is probably no, but for research purposes, does anything generally mundane make me irrationally angry?
One of my sons-in-law, who rarely responds to anything in our group chats, was the first to reply. Almost like he's been waiting his entire married life to my daughter for me to ask that question.
He said, putting "gross" trash in the trashcan.
That is an absolute no no here. Anything that aids in the collection, cleanup, and/or removal of anything involving bodily excrements cannot be thrown away inside. ie; diapers, wipes, toilet paper and/or paper towels that have come into contact with vomit, urine, and/or poop. So.help.me, if I catch a whiff of any such category wafting out of an indoor trash can, it fuels my hate fire. But that's not anger talking. That's my gag reflex.
Kearstin replied next.
"Lee's Chicken!"
Before you think I have hostility toward a fast food chicken chain, you need to know that for whatever ungodly reason, my family went through a phase of breaking the silence by screaming "LEEEE'S CHICKENNNN!" for absolutely no other purpose than to watch me jump and threaten them with bodily harm. As an added bonus, she made a video montage of her scaring me, to keep for their endless entertainment. I keep it so the coroner will know why my heart mysteriously stopped.
They
all like to scare me. It's like their favorite pastime. You might recall the time
I almost killed myself with cashews because Ron yelled "
DEEEEP" at me. And they call
me the crazy one. For the record, I'm also not a fan of riding along in the car reading a book and minding my business and suddenly hearing "SLUG BUG!" and "CRUISER BRUISER!" followed by a punch to the arm. I
will meet violence with violence. Don't forget who started it.
So I'm still waiting for the part where I get "irrational" over something "stupid."
Then Ron says,
"What about the time you lost your mind and crushed our emergency alarm?"
Ok. Don't make it sound like I just snapped one day and started smashing our security equipment. I was provoked.
While the kids were all waiting for the bus, one of the preschoolers pushed the panic button on a security fob alarm that was hanging from our key hooks in the foyer. I awoke out of a dead sleep to a high pitched ear splitting siren piercing through my ears, brain, and soul and no amount of me pushing the buttons and screaming profanity would turn it off. This was serious.
I messaged a picture of it to my family asking anyone if they knew how to turn it off.
When no one answered back right away, I took matters into my own hands, carried it into the garage, laid it on top of the chest freezer, and began pounding it with a rubber mallet until it flew off and landed behind the freezer. It was still ringing. I was still cussing and now also heavy breathing.
I climbed onto the deep freezer with a broom and knocked it out where I could reach it, took it outside in the rain, laid it in the wet grass and began beating it with a hammer until it buried itself deep into the ground. Still ringing. Still cussing, heavy breathing, and now soaking wet with rain.
I got a shovel, dug it back up, laid it on the concrete this time, and with just 4 violent swings of the hammer, I shut that thing up once and for all. No more ringing. No more cussing. Just me sitting outside in the rain in my pajamas, covered in mud, panting like a deranged serial killer.
When I got back inside, I picked up my phone and saw that Kearstin had replied to my message with a labeled picture of a lanyard that she said should be hanging on the key hook near the fob. All I had to do was stick it into the hole to silence the alarm.
I slowly turned to look and right there hanging on the key hook was the lanyard.
I messaged everybody back:
The good news is, I silenced the alarm.
The bad news is, the fob has been destroyed.
Obviously, I don't need anger management.
What I need is for my family to stop trying to scare me to death and to answer my questions in a timely manner.
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