My creative thought processes were rudely interrupted this afternoon when The Husband wanted to know where I put the last service receipt for my car. He needed this right now, at 3 p.m. on a Saturday afternoon, so he could note the date, mileage and type of service in the car’s owner’s manual.
Is nothing sacred anymore? I’M…WORKING …HERE.
By work, I mean posting on my blog, while doing laundry, while taking a break from shredding documents, while getting ready to trim chicken breasts and marinate them for dinner. Not just working, but multitasking. But I must stop because This Thing Is Important Now. The Husband has to fill out the little book immediately, or I suppose the car fairies will hook up the “Tin Tomato” (as The Husband calls it) and haul it to some remote parking lot, where all cars look the same and not a single antennae has a furry whatzit on top to distinguish it from any other.
Men have no sense of timing. He never asks me to take care of something in the six minutes per day I happen to be sitting on the couch, apparently doing nothing. It’s usually when I am in the shower stall, wire brush in one hand and old toothbrush in the other, attempting to separate mold from grout, that he’ll need something.
To be fair, The Husband is a very handy and able guy. He can fix furniture, lay tile, do housework, untangle electrical outages, remove snakes from the garden and squash big bugs. This is not a complaint about his abilities, or the fact that he is a very detail-oriented guy who wants to keep records on mechanical things so they are serviced when they should be, and keep running for a long time.
I guess it was just the mundane nature of the request, competing with the fact that I was trying to create a work of genius. I mean, car service receipt versus blogpost? No contest, of course. I hit the “Save Draft,” got up and found the receipt in the glove compartment. He’d checked there, but missed it. I can’t imagine how, since it was there will all the other assorted bits of paper that seem to have nowhere else to go when they go for a ride.