11 p.m., self is sound asleep in her bed, visions of sugarplums dancing in her head, you get the picture, when self is roused by a booming voice that says:


Whereupon self mumbles something like, “Call the police.” And goes promptly back to sleep.

This morning, when self awakens, the house is preter-naturally quiet. No snoring Gracie, no snoring hubby for that matter. Self goes to the kitchen, already feeling the first glimmers of excitement, to wit: No class today! Maybe self can actually get started on some long-postponed projects! Such as that proposal to teach a Creative Writing workshop in Manila next year!

Self very energized by the thought of a whole day stretching ahead, free from all manner of appointments.

But, alas, the story about hubby’s smashed windshield proves not to be a mirage, for in an hour or so Dear Hubby awakens, and for the next three hours the house is in turmoil, while hubby goes back and forth from the car to the phone to the car to the phone to the car to the garage to the phone to the kitchen to the car to the phone while he speaks to

police glass repairman police insurance agent police neighbor glass repairman self self self

Then, hubby hits on the brilliant idea of borrowing self’s car and going to the office, as he cannot go to the office tomorrow because the glass repairman will come to fix his car. Self not too happy at the news that hubby will not be going in to work on the morrow, but feeling is slightly ameliorated by the knowledge that he is going to work today, which is all the better as it means she can start on her own work today.

Then self has to go and open her big mouth and say that she doesn’t have any gas in her car.

And hubby decides he doesn’t want to fill up self’s car with gas, as he spent hundreds and hundreds of dollars already in San Luis Obispo this weekend. And neither does he want to be stressing over whether or not the gas in self’s car will or will not be enough to take him to the office, he will drive his own car to the office today, thank you very much. But first he has to clean it of every last shard of glass because the wind might blow a stray shard into the back of his neck as he is driving.

Which utterance immediately conjures up a very vivid image in self’s mind of — (Self, stop it! Just cut it out and FO-CUS on this here big problem!)

So then self attempts to exhibit wifely forebearance, drops all the papers she was in the middle of grading, and assists hubby in picking up glass shards littering the back seat of his car.

After an hour or so, the following conversation ensues:

Self: This is stupid. Why don’t you just take my car to the office? I’ll go fill it up right now, if you want.

Hubby (growling): No.

Self: Or, what if I drop you off at your office and pick you up when you’re done?

Hubby: No. I changed my mind. I don’t want to go to the office after all.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

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