Monday, January 25, 2010

R.I.P. Pink Chair

Okay, so the Smiths were incredibly boring this weekend.  Mr. Smith ventured off to get some much-needed hunting in on Saturday, while I stayed home and got caught up on really fun things, like laundry.  My parents also came into town for their anniversary dinner (Happy Anniversary guys!) and came over to meet their newest grandchild, The Pooper, who instantly captured their hearts.  The Grandparents lovingly brought over a whole bunch of new toys for Cooper, and he was smitten with them as well. 

Since we were so boring, I'll tell you all about a funny adventure that happened to Mr. and Mrs. Smith over the Christmas holidays that did not make its way to the Blog.  It's about a beloved pink chair that my mom had bought me somewhere (probably at an antique or yard sale... it's where I get the frugalness from!).  This pink chair traveled with me to DC after graduating, back down to Alabama, and has lived with me for about 5 years.  Until Christmas Day.  When Mr. Smith murdered it. 

You see, upon realizing that the pink chair was taking up a tad too much room in our guest room, we decided to take it back up to my parents' house on Christmas Day, and swung by our home on our journey from T-Town to Cullman.   We were taking two cars, since Mr. Smith wanted to go hunting that Saturday, and he easily swung up my pink chair into the back of his truck... ready to go.  "Wait!"  I cried.  "Don't forget to tie it down!" 

"No, no, no, silly.  I have much experience in moving furniture," said Mr. Smith "And this chair it totally fine just sitting here in the back of my truck.  Don't be dramatic."  (Who, me?)

This back-and-forth went on for a solid ten minutes until I said (like any good wife), "Okay, fine.  I'm sure you're right." 

Fifteen minutes into our journey, Mr. Smith is following me up I-65 and right about the University Blvd exit, he proceeds to call my cell phone to let me know that the pink chair has flown out of the truck and is sitting in the middle of the Interstate.  Peeling back around, we see the chair (in all its glory) in the middle of the 3-lane interstate with Christmas traffic zooming in and around its perilous perch.  Pulling over, we debated what to do, and Mr. Smith decided the best thing would be for him ro run out into the busy Interstate, grab the chair from the middle lane, turn around and run back over. 

I burst into hysterical tears.  You see, I'm not a crier.  I hardly ever shed the tears.  But I just knew... I KNEW... I was going to watch Mr. Smith be killed before my very eyes on Christmas Day.  I blubbered to please call 911... that they would know what to do... all the while sobbing my eyes out.  Alas, we were both so taken aback by my hysterics that we were frozen in place on the side of the Interstate.  Lo and behold, a miracle.  Two very nice Birmingham City Police officers pulled up in their expert cruiser, flashed on those beautiful blue lights, and safely guided out Mr. Smith into the Interstate to retrieve the now very-battered and abused pink chair.  A Christmas miracle!!! 

Poor Mr. Smith.  It was a gut-wrenching moment where he had to both apologize and accept that I had been right.  Nevertheless, we continued on our journey to Cullman, after he had wrapped up that chair like a mummy in the back of his truck.  And then we had to show the parents what had happened.  Luckily, they were just thankful no one had been injured, as were we. 

Moral of the story: Husbands.... listen to your wives.  They know what they are talking about.  :) 

1 comment:

  1. Great post, and a GREAT moral of the story :)