Zen and the Art of Car Maintenance

Well, folks, I'm tired. I'm just not sure if I can whip out a witty, interesting post right now.
But I am fully capable of writing jibberish. Gotta start somewhere!

This all transpired on Saturday morning. I had been really busy making the bed, ironing all Ted's socks and t-shirts, and serving up a whopper of a home-cooked breakfast.

Okay, I can't lie to you. Ted had corn pops. I made him get them himself. I had oatmeal, because I've lost five pounds again. Thank you. Thank you very much.

But the rest of that, it's all true.

Lunch time rolled around, and Ted decided the green car needed an oil change. Then, since I primarily drive the red car, he asks:

"Hey honey, how many miles has it been since I changed the oil in the red car?"

I didn't even miss a beat. "Oh....about three hundred."

Silence.

"You have no idea, do you?"

".......no."

"Have you checked the oil lately?"

".....no."

At this point, I'm sitting on the couch...er...standing at the ironing board... in my pajamas.

"Put some pants on. You're going to go check the oil."

"But...but...you're the man of the house, and you're still here! I'm really quite busy."

Next thing you know, I'm wearing a winter coat, Ted's sweatpants, and my flip flops, and I'm standing in the driveway staring at the hood of the car. I had already popped the button, but I couldn't find the latch under the hood (it's hidden, I swear it is).

"Can't you just show me where it is? It's cold out here, and the neighbors are staring!"

"Get down, like this (he crouches at eye level), and look." He's always trying to teach me something. And boy, do I love to learn. Especially on Saturdays.

I see the lever, and the next thing you know, I'm checking the oil like an expert. Ha! I showed him! This ain't my first rodeo. I used to drive a Neon that liked to play a little trick on me. The "disappearing oil trick."

"Yep, oil's good," I say confidently.

"Now, check the power steering fluid."

And because I don't like to be bossed around, I turned on my heel and marched back up the stairs.

And by that I mean, I checked the power steering fluid.

"Now, what would you do if you needed washer fluid?"

I bent over and started eye-balling a plastic reservoir.

"Don't you dare put washer fluid in there!"

I shifted a little to the left. "I'd put it right in here!"

"Okay. Good job. Be back in a while."

Thus ended my ten millionth lesson on how to be a man. I'm coming along quite nicely.

He likes to be sure I won't break all his favorite things while he's gone.


Author's note:
I realize that my life is starting to seem like one big blonde moment.
It's true that my life is comprised of several small blonde moments.
But most of the time I'm just your average relatively smart person, just trying to get a laugh.
When I say it like that, it doesn't sound very smart.
I just felt the need to reassure you that I haven't lost ALL my wits.
*cue the desperate whine*
You have to believe me! I'm not crazy! I'm not!

I'm going to bed now. I trust you'll keep this between the two of us. Right?

By the way, if you need your oil changed, I'm only charging 30 bucks. Look me up. I'm in the book.