My husband and I often have conversations that leave us both frustrated, feeling like things are being left unsaid, feelings are hurt because of those implied words. Silence often ensues as we both try to figure out what we said that set the other person off.
See, the blower in my car stopped working yesterday afternoon. No blower? No heat.
I called Tom right after work to let him know what happened. I was already on my way to buy some gifts for Tom’s older kids and the grandkids. Since I was already going shopping, Tom suggested I got to the automotive department and get a 12 volt heater for the drive home. I could at least point it at the windshield as a defroster.
He’s a clever fellow, that guy. But when I asked him where in the automotive department such a heater would be, he told me to ask an associate. Ugh! I hate asking associates. I really do.
And thus began the downward spiral of our conversation.
My last car, also a Grand Prix, had trouble with the heater. I took it to the dealer who sold it to me and they fixed it. Tom suggested I take my current car there. I reminded him that I didn’t buy the car from them.
He then suggested I not go shopping and instead head toward home and go to the auto garage on the way. I asked him if he thought I could make it there before they close. I told him they close at 5:00 and it was already 4:40 and I was at least fifteen miles away. The roads were sort of crappy.
He sighed and said, “No, you probably can’t make it.”
I asked him why he was annoyed with me.
He told me he wasn’t.
I told him I could tell he was and wanted to know why.
He replied, “You knock down every single suggestion I make.”
Huh. Yes, I guess I did to that this time. I apologized, “I’ll go to automotive and look for the 12 volt heater and if I can’t find it, I’ll ask an associate.”
He seemed relieved that I’d agreed to that option.
Several more calls back and forth during my shopping spree had Tom deciding that I couldn’t possibly drive the car, even with a 12 volt heater pointed at the windshield, until he had the blower fixed. He declared that he’d be driving me to work this morning.
I asked why that was necessary since I did, in fact, have the new heater in my cart with everything else.
He declared that driving with something like that was something he’d do but he wasn’t comfortable with me doing it. He asked, “What if it starts to rain? Would that thing take care of freezing rain on your windshield?”
I retorted, good naturedly, “Is there freezing rain in the forecast?”
“No,” he replied back, “but with the way the weather has been, it wouldn’t surprise me if a freezing rain storm popped up just to stress me out.”
So he drove me to work today. Seventeen miles one way. He’s coming to pick me up tonight and running me around town to get the last few things I need. And all day today, he’s going to be working to fix the blower in my car. He doesn’t know if it is the switch or the motor of the blower. But once he figures that out, he has every intention of fixing it.
He’s my hero, even when we get a little pissy with each other.
I know he loves me, even when I shoot down every idea he throws my way. And this is how I know, because he worries about me driving without heat. He is spending his day fixing my car. He does so much for me and our girls that I can’t even recount all of it.
I just know I’m lucky to have that guy.