My husband trusts me – especially if I’m at home…. sitting down…. doing something like balancing the checkbook. Add motion to the equation and he starts to get concerned. He has requested I not go out riding my bike by myself. He doesn’t want me to go knee boarding, even though the rest of the family is doing it. And he really doesn’t want me to go scuba diving with him. But he has to let me out of the house once in a while. Poor man, he works long days, so it is useful to let me help with a few things.
Like getting the new freezer home. There was a melt-down going on in the old one, so I purchased a new one online late in the evening. Delivery, for a fee, would have kept us waiting two business days and a weekend. I decided I could go get it in the old “sometimes-needs-a-jump-start-with-a-screw-driver-on-the-some-thing-or-other” truck.
One of the first things I noticed upon entering the pick-up zone, was a notice admonishing customers to securely tie down their purchases for transport. Having not thought to bring rope, I called the persevering husband to ask if he thought the freezer would travel safely without it. He simply asked if the tailgate was up. I truthfully answered with a “yes.” I would take the back roads on the 40 minute drive home. He said that would be fine.
Thirty seconds later, he called back. In the slightly panicked tone of someone trying to pre-determine all possible outcomes, he asked, “Is the freezer in the truck?”
“The tailgate needs to be up WHEN the freezer is in the truck.”
Well, yes, I had thought of that, but I knew he had everyone’s best interests in mind.
On the way home I called my dad, who agreed to come help the girls (16, 18, 21) and I unload the freezer. He brought his moving dolly and knowledge of box cutters. By the time I had returned from putting my purse in the house, he and the girls had the big box out of the truck bed. We could only find an ancient box cutter, but he was doing such a good job with it, that I declined to have a turn. He seemed relieved. (It would not have even occurred to me to use a box cutter.) However, when it was time to use the dolly, I stepped up. My dad is in very good shape, but I didn’t want him to hurt himself. Surely, I could assist.
As it turns out, Dad and I don’t speak the same “let’s-move-a-heavy-object-with-a-moving-dolly” language. After some loving consternation on his part, and many helpful comments from the crowd, we managed to put the freezer down without flattening my dad. When it was time to move the other freezer, I was ready again, but he politely pleaded with his eyes while smilingly suggesting, “Why don’t we let (16 year old daughter) do it instead?” She made it look easy, but I’m suspicious.
Now, days after everything has been transferred to the new freezer, I hear bits and pieces of the kids texting each other. A whisper of “Are you keeping an eye on Mom?” or a blatant, “How long are you leaving her home by herself?” I don’t know what all the fuss is about.