Ditz

I hate being the ditzy one in my marriage. Honestly, when I was younger and thought about marriage and husbands, I never thought I'd be the one who always did stupid things, the one who always left the butter out so that it melted all over the counter(for the record, I've never actually done that) or the one who left a load of laundry in the washer for three days so that when the lid was finally lifted, the stench could knock over a, well, something very stout.

But, alas, I am the ditz.

And I hate it. I feel like if Tom has to be saddled with a ditzy wife, she (I) should at least be cute.

This afternoon the four of us were headed out to a retirement party. It was actually a graduation party but the graduate insisted that his mother call it his retirement from school. He's a sweet boy with health problems so now that he's done with high school, he's DONE with school altogether.

It was going to be an hour long drive in 90 degree weather.

Before we left, I told Tom that the air conditioning in my car isn't really doing such a good job of cooling. He checked the water, put air in the tires (not that that has anything to do with the air conditionining, but he's responsible, unlike his ditzy wife) and off we went.

Along the way, he mentioned that we need to find the title to my car so that we can switch the license plate over to Ohio. He said that it isn't in the file where he keeps those sorts of things.

Huh...well, I thought, perhaps it was in the glove compartment of my car. It's where I'd think to look, quite honestly.

So I opened the glove compartment and oh, dear heaven, it was so full. Full of bank statements from back before we were married, an old check book from three bank accounts ago, year after year of registrations were jammed in there.

I started going through papers.

I sifted through receipts, pay stubs, canceled checks, etc. and put them back as I went along. After all, we were driving down the road, where else was I going to put them?

So once I'd gone through every single paper in there and replaced each one, I closed the glove compartment and it sounded like something hit the fan that was almost cooling the car, but not quite.

Suddenly, it sounded like the thing was about to blow up.

Tom turned off the fan and the noise stopped. He turned it back on and yep, there it was.

Evidently, something had fallen over the back of the glove compartment and into the area in front of the passenger side floor, somewhere in the vacinity of the fan that blows heat, air conditioning and even just plaint air into the car.

We made the rest of the trip in sweltering heat with the windows down. It was miserable. Not only were the windows inadequate at cooling the car, Alyssa whined the entire time about the noise and the wind, and OMG roll up your windows!!

We were at the party until almost dark. While the girls were outside playing on the playground equipment, I attempted to dig out whatever had fallen into the fan.

I found an old check book, cover and all as well as a moldy book of checks. But those weren't the things making the fan sound like a sick moose. No, even with those things removed from the area, the fan still makes that sound.

I really, truly hate being the one to whom these things happen. I so hate being the ditzy one.