By Alex Iwashyna, blogger at Late Enough
My phone rings. I know it’s my husband mostly from the caller ID, but I’d like to think that I’m also psychic. Just in case the writing stuff doesn’t work out. Plus, I have a beaded door just begging to be used.
Scott: I know that you’re writing, but I need your help.
I can’t imagine what help he could need now. He already got cursed out by Goodwill for not separating the shoes from the clothing we donated. And he didn’t call then. Probably because my suggestion would have been: DUDE! We are TOTALLY toilet papering Goodwill. I’m pretty sure it’ll cancel out all the GOOD in our will, but I’ve already packed the spray paint. Let’s go BIG.
Scott: No. I bought donuts. Okay, I didn’t BUY them.
He had me at donuts. And stealing. Because in about ten minutes there’d be no evidence. Bwhahaha!
Scott: I forgot my wallet.
Me: That’s because it’s keeping me company in the office. Do you need me to bring it to you?
I figured the nice people at the bakery would’ve let him have the donuts. And maybe leave one child as collateral. The one that’s crying.
Scott: I already got the kids back in the car.
Sans donuts? Let’s say it together: HOLY CRAP! Seriously. That’s a miracle. I should’ve looked for a saint in the donut glaze.
Scott continues: The person working clearly didn’t have children because she couldn’t understand why I spent five minutes debating which donut to get. Of the two available options.
Um, bakery people? If you buy donuts that your kids don’t like, you have to buy more donuts. And you’re stuck eating the rejects. And being the pickiest eater on the planet, I don’t like being stuck eating ANYTHING. Also, have you every seen kids tear up when they don’t like their donut? HEARTBREAKING.
Scott: Can you meet us outside?
As Scott pulls up, I’m clearly not get out of the car for the fancy pants bakery*. (*not its real name) Cheering the Richmond marathoners at 8 a.m. in my pajamas is one thing, but 11 a.m. at the grumpy worker posh bakery? Nope.
Add large furry slippers.
Scott jumps out of the car, runs to the passenger door and opens it.
Me: That’s SO nice, Scott!
As I hop in, I think: He interrupted my work but opening my door really made up for it. Plus, how many times would I have appreciated someone showing up with my wallet? (At least twice at tollbooths.) I’d be that appreciative, too!
As we get closer to fancy pants bakery, I holler: DUDE, you should’ve turned down the alley to park.
Scott: Yeah, or I could’ve switched to the passenger seat at the house and had you drive so you could’ve dropped me off.
Me: Wait, what? You weren’t opening the door for me?
Scott: Can I get credit for it anyway?
Chivalry is dead, my friends. Dead.
Alex Iwashyna blogs at Late Enough mostly about life, parenting, marriage, zombies, culture, religion and her inability to wake up in the morning and not hate everyone. She also facilitates a local moms group called Nobody Told Me! (because OBVIOUSLY) and runs the web content for the Blogger Body Calendar project. Feel free to find her on Facebook or the Twitter @L8enough. But don’t call. She’s NOT a phone person.
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