We’ve been light on content around here this week. Thought you could use a break from the usual pathos. Don’t get too used to it; we’ve got a rather weightier series coming up next week.
The subject header read “I bought a car,” which might not seem so odd to most of you. People buy cars all the time. I have been known to do so on occasion. But, this morning, when I opened my inbox, I was a little surprised.
You see, the email was from my husband.
He is in LA, working on the projects that will consume his professional life once we move there in seven weeks (counting down, y’all). I am in London, puttering about doing miscellaneous tasks like editing my book, talking to movers, and raising our children. This is nothing new. I am used to him coming and going, which he has done his whole career, although I was a little surprised by the person who, upon hearing that J would be traveling back and forth to California over the next two months, said “Oh, this will be a tough stretch for him.” For him? Tough stretch for him?
I told J when he left this time that he should test drive some cars. We need to buy immediately upon our return, given that we had to sell ours upon leaving two years ago. We have budgeted carefully for this. We had narrowed down our list and I figured he would test drive a few and then report back, perhaps eliminating one or two.
Instead, sometime between when I spoke with him at 10:45 GMT last night and when I turned on the computer this morning, he purchased the family vehicle. Now, how would you feel if your spouse made a major purchase without consulting you? If he or she decided to plop down a sizeable portion of your budget on the car you are going to be driving for the next ten years without so much as checking what color you might like?
Dude, was I ever relieved.
One less thing to think about. With the move and the kids and the book and his travel and selling our other house and Zachary in a growth spurt so his ankles stick out every time he gets dressed for school and filling out forms for the preschool and immunization records and everyone but Benjamin getting a stomach bug (including our nanny so that I was up half the night working on the book because she was out sick and J is in the States and the damned book still has to get done, hence the bloggy break this week) and us all still needing to eat every now and then, I was just pleased he was not asking me to think about the damned car. I do not give two shits and a raisin about cars. As long as he investigated fuel efficiency and safety and cost, he could put me in a pink cardboard box with wheels and I would be fine. He found the car and got a deal? Great. Check one more item off the list.
His email sounded a little nervous, like he wasn’t sure he made the right decision. His doubt, however, comes not from thinking I would mind but from thinking most spouses would mind. Me? He knows I do not care and do not want to think about it.
We have been together for thirteen years. When we met we were practically still in diapers (OK, in college). We are like some hybrid tree that started out as two very distinct entities but now is a mass of tangled branches and trunks and roots. We get each other. I make social plans without his consent. He buys cars without mine. It would stress us both out any other way.
So, honey, because I know you are reading, don’t worry about it. I am thrilled. And we have people coming over on Saturday night. We’re ordering in, because you know damned well the last thing I want to think about is going to the butcher.