The clutch on the Mr.’s truck went out this week.
It went out on Monday so that means that for the whole ding-dong week we have had to share MY car.
I know we have shared the truck for like EVER but I’ve gotten used to having my own transportation. I like my little space to think my own thoughts and sing my own songs at the top of my own lungs.
Not that the Mr. isn’t a joy to ride with. He’s great. He’s chatty and sharey and all kinds of patient with me when I can’t get my stuff together as he slows down for me to jump out at the ungodly time of 7:25 AM.
And of course, HE has no complaints, I’m sure, as I am known far and wide for my pleasantness.
Still and all, it’s nice to finally get back to my routine and get all my air vents pointed toward my face so that my hair blows back like a supermodel and to get my radio station back and put the CD of Mike Bowling back into the player.
{Yes, Mr., I was quite surprised when I was expecting Mike and got Adele!!)
But the Mr. was able to put in a brand new master cylinder thing and some other something, which makes him a superhero in my book, though we all know that behind every Superman is a Wonder Woman helping him!!
And that’s where the Mish comes in……
The Mr. ordered the parts he needed on Monday night and they were set to be delivered on Wednesday. So Tuesday evening he wanted to start taking things apart on the truck and he asked me to help.
I guess I should explain that when the Mr. asks me to “help”, that really just means to stand by and run and fetch stuff. It’s LOTS of fun and accounts for no shortage of “loving” exchanges between the two of us.
The problem on this night was that it was raining.
The truck was in the carport but there is no door leading directly from the house so I knew I had to do something to protect my head.
This is something that, after all these years together, the Mr. still doesn’t get.
Who cares if your hair gets wet???
Who is going to see it???
Who are you trying to impress???
But as any McLean can tell you, it has nothing to do with wet hair or even how bad we may look.
It’s all about the can of hairspray we used to shellac our ‘do in place.
When that helmet of Final Net gets wet, it sets up like concrete!!!
Not good!!
So what’s a girl to do????
She reaches into her Me-maw bag of tricks and comes out with a grocery sack.
Yep!
Sure did!
When I walked around the corner of that carport with a plastic Kroger bag over my head, loops around my ears, you should have seen the look on the Mr.’s face!
Of course he didn’t comment.
SEe, when your clutch goes out, all traces of humor leave your body.
But I’m glad to report that the truck is running great, the humor is back and the dome of spray on this head stayed dry as a bone!! 🙂
~Mish~
Life According To Mish 