I gotta brag about my wife.
I had front row tix to Monster Jam.
If you don’t know what Monster Jam is, well, it’s pretty much a redneck autosport whereby one builds a 10,000 pound dune buggy with Terra Gator tires and a fiberglass truck body, and then race other ‘trucks’ around a dirt track littered with jumps and obstacles. Once the racing is over, a bunch more obstacles are pulled out that they then jump over, crush, and destroy for judge’s points. The coolest part is when you hear the 1500 horsepower engine launch that five ton behemoth 30-40 feet into the air…
Sometimes they even land on their wheels and do it again!
So anyway, my Dad, brother, and niece were coming with my son and I.
They had already left Daytona Beach and were heading our way.
And, wouldn’t you know it, the septic tank backed up.
No, it wasn’t me.
We have been living in this house since 2002 and who knows how long it had already gone since it was pumped before we bought it.
So, I called the septic pump dude and got someone to come out in a couple hours.
This is important for two reasons: 1: I didn’t have any clean skivvies left in my dresser drawer – so laundry was a high priority, and 2: we had a houseful of people (30) coming the next day.
So there I was – Monster Truck racing tickets in one hand and an overflowing septic tank in the other.
My beautiful, wonderful, Godly, strong-willed, and self-reliant love of my life stepped up.
It’s not the first time, it won’t be the last.
Incidentally, we bought this house as a distressed sale – divorce, trashed, fixer-upper – you know what I mean…
Didn’t know where the lid to the septic was. Knew where the cleanout and drainfield were, but not the lid itself.
So I showed her where those two things were, kissed her, and headed to the stadium.
To make a long story short, she handled it.
They found the pump-out lid – two feet down…
It’s all good.
All thanks to her, I had a BLAST at the show!
I came home, thanked my wife – who looked sooooo tired – did I mention our precious 17 month-old that was a royal pain at the grocery store earlier that evening?
There was only one request…
Rub my feet…please?
Gladly! For a woman such as this, it was the least that I could do.
I love my wife…
(C) 2009 Alan Mowbray