Friday, April 10, 2009

BILLY, STOP SPEAKING IN GIBBERISH

IT CAME OUT OF MY MOUTH BEFORE I HAD A CHANCE TO THINK

*sigh* AKA had some car trouble at the top of the week. She was actually bringing me back from Meijer's (what on Earth am I going to do when I move to Nebraska?? I won't know WHERE to shop for 'stuff'! Meijer's is such a neat place!) when her car started 'wheezing and coughing'. We made it back to my house where it heaved itself into a coma.

I knew the issue with her car, and had told her what steps to take to prevent trouble. She didn't take my advice and now, here we are. She had it towed to her house, and then when I spoke to her on the phone, I could hear all the life drawn from it.

The fix was simple enough, in fact I COULD HAVE DONE IT (as to 'why' I don't do stuff like that, keep reading!!). But she was bummed, predictably. But her being out of sorts for this week troubles me. To me, as long as you are working with problems that you know and have solutions for, you have no problems.

So in a conversation, listening to her 'I don't know's' (I don't know how I am going to get this done, I don't know who is going to do it or where ...) regarding her repair, I 'volunteered' my Dad. Yipes!!

I don't like offering up folks for activities that I am not going to be a part of. If I was saying, 'well, I will see if I can get my Dad to help me', that is different. That means that I am going to get it done, one way or another. If I need help, I will have to get it (once, she helped me fix brakes on my BMW ... talk about a lifetime ago!!), but that I am going to 'get 'er done', one way or the other.

This was not that case. I wasn't going to be involved in getting her ride together. My is dad retired from Ford, and he is literally the McGyver of car repair. The words, 'I can ask my Dad', came out of my mouth before I thought about WHO I was saying it to.

SIDEBAR

Trust, is one of the things that I pick up from people ... and with AKA, I don't get clear readings from her. She may be in love with me (and let's get that right out in the open ... she is, and I know it), but she is a flake.

She's earned it the honest way, because that is something I think she gets from her Dad. When I say 'flaky', it isn't the normal, bimbo kind of reference. It is a term used to indicate that there is enough information for me to keep my distance.

I asked my Dad can I give her his cell number. They talked out what they needed to talk about, and made their arrangements. But her Dad couldn't 'see' where they were headed in his mind, despite getting directions that was one degree (me) and then the horse itself.

When I made the decision to see Nebraska in Chicago, I went on the trust I had in her. All I had to do was get to where I was supposed to be. That is the same thing that is driving me now, because I wouldn't be able to go there if I didn't 'see' myself there, and she wasn't to be trusted in my life.

AKA doesn't have 'that' to her. I have never known why she has been in my life, and she hung on the outer rings of it. There has never been reason to make her more of a part of it, either.

BACK TO THE STORY

She needed an alternator. My Dad slapped it on in about an hour and she was back on the road. When we spoke about it last night, I asked her what my Dad told her was the problem, to see if any of it was different from what I told her. She said 'No', then asked why didn't offer to repair it, if I knew what was wrong and what needed to be done.

I don't repair cars and stuff, because I don't like to get dirty. Someone at some time in my life, called me 'prissy'. You know what ... they were RIGHT! Though I am not quite as effette as I was during my teens and 'run and shoot' days, if it means getting dirty, I am not into it.

But I will get grimy if that is what the job calls for, especially if it means getting things CLEAN. With her 'clutter disease' (the actual term isn't coming to mind), she would drive me insane. Anywho, all this has been an excuse to get today's title ...

DON'T WANT TO RAIN ON ANYONE'S PARADE

She is the youngest of four. I am the oldest of 5. There have been enough said about 'birth order' and how it affects folks personality. It comes to mind when I think of my 'Imperial Thinking' construct. I am the oldest, and unless you are my Ma or Da, I don't too much care for what you think, or to try to impress you. Sorry, but you aren't in my direct chain of command.

Her being the youngest means that there is a good chance she was spoiled, and she cops to that. She isn't a brat, but she does court attention. She can be like the Mum album, 'Yesterday Was Dramatic, Today is OK'. When her car cut out, she fell of an emotional cliff. I was at first put off, because when she described the symptoms a few weeks ago, I gave her the solution to stave off what happened, but ... anywho, when she got her car on the road, she swooped by and we went up to Costco.

She started speaking with the pitch and tone of a teenager ... she used her 15-year old voice. I sat there, and went along with it. She was in a good mood, and I didn't want to mess with her head. But I HATE when she does that. It makes me become curt and short with her, because like anyone, my tolerance for stupid stuff is kind of limited.

But another reason I tried to keep it to myself, is that the observation of her interaction with her parents ... her Dad in particular, makes me hold up on things. Now, where it is 'I shouldn't', regarding Tee Jay (you never say never, because you just might!!), with AKA, I 'can't'.

I shouldn't dance ... I can't swim. I can attempt both, but for one, the consequence of failure is greater ... final, possibly. That is a big difference. The piece of skin that sniffing around the former is preferrable to the pound of flesh that I would have to give up messing around the latter.

So I endured her 'gibber-speak' as the acid in my stomach crept back up my throat. She dropped me home, and was happy. I was happy for her as well, because she was really down this week. My Dad and I chatted about the pair, and he did not seem to be to put upon, though he did agree that they are 'peas in a pod'.

But then, should they not be?

3 comments:

Myra said...

Marc, this gave me such a chuckle this morning! You have a way of writing that makes me "see and hear" exactly what you are talking about! The look on your face on the way to Costco must have been priceless! As for not liking to get dirty...I don't like to sweat. Thus my exercise routines, while I "could" push harder, I don't because, sweating just grosses me out!

Beth said...

Are you thinking of OCD/hoarding? That's what it sounds like, when you mentioned her clutter problem.

I think I would have been irritated as hell if I'd told someone earlier what I thought the problem was, they ignored it, then when it crapped out and had to be fixed, they had the nerve to ask me "Why didn't YOU fix it?" I don't think so!

Hugs, Beth

Her Side said...

It's a beautiful thing when you know exactly when to not f*ck around with somebody. But it sucks when you land in the gray area that makes you take a stupid leap. LOL

I love how you address the difference between "shouldn't" and "can't."