Our alternator on our car is shot, as is a tire on our scooter. This has caused a great deal of stress with my husband. “What am I going to do if something were to happen to you, if you fell or hurt yourself? You have quite the history of being clumsy. I have to make sure that we have some transportation, it’s my responsibility to take care of you.”
The next day his friend picks him up and they take the scooter and SUV to the mechanic. When they return the garage is closed for the night, but Rob insists on driving the scooter out of the shop. He blindly walks through the pitch dark garage, through an area cluttered with vehicles and parts, and then Rob—the man who needs to rescue his clumsy wife from the impending emergency that will surely befall her—walks right into an empty bay pit.
I am now playing nurse to Rob’s swollen leg.
“See that sweetie, I’m glad if anything happens to you, I can get help,” Rob says as I bring him two ibuprofens, fresh pillows, ice, the remote control, and a grilled cheese sandwich.
Yes Rob, it’s a good thing I have you looking out for me.