This Morning's Wit Went Faster Than The Speed Limit...

It is not normal for my husband to accompany us as I drive Rachel and Erin to school in the morning.   He is long gone, already at work, by the time we usually leave the house.  Today, he was kind of sitting in the front passenger seat.  Kind of.  He had a severely pinched nerve in his neck, so his head was kind of listing to the right, and I believe he may have been attempting a fetal position while whimpering every minute or so.  So after I dropped off the kids, I had planned to take him to the Chiropractic office to put him out of his misery... or was that supposed to be the Veterinarian office?

As I pull out of the driveway, "I'll try to watch the potholes and frost heaves." (which are unbelievably horrendous this year. I'm praying we don't break an axle. No exaggeration. It's bad.)

Erin, "Yeah, they'd probably really hurt Dad."

Me, "That's why I don't want to miss any of them. One must take advantage of ones opportunities in life." Groan from husband... still not quite sitting nor attaining a fetal position yet.

Erin, "Mom! That's just mean!" Giggling from the back seat.

Rachel, "I need to stay after school and see it I can fix the third page of my block print. I can't fix the first two, but it might not be so bad if the third page turns out OK." (If you are not an artist, then the preceding sentence may not have any meaning for you, but don't worry, I didn't understand anything except the need to pick her up later than the usual time)

Husband groans out, "Well that just makes it Modern Art."  Obviously his wit is unaffected by pain.

Me, "Modern Art?"

Husband, "If you can't understand it, then it's Modern Art."  Mewling and still writhing in pain. (Like I said, the roads are really bad, even though I really am trying to avoid spousal and vehicular damage.)

Rachel, "The definition of Modern Art is, 'you could have done it, but you didn't'."

I can't say I've ever had a reason to look up the definition of 'Modern Art' but considering most of Rachel's work should end up in the Guggenheim, according to her father, I guess they must know what they are talking about.

After dropping off the kids, I drove over to the Chiropractor's parking lot to wait the 45 minutes until the office opened... Only to find out there not only wouldn't be a 'Doctor in the House' until the afternoon, but there were no appointments available until 5pm.  I thought my husband was going to start bawling.  I really think I would have joined him because all weekend he could not find a single position to lay, sit or stand that did not involve severe pain in his neck, back, shoulder all the way down to his finger tips.  Luckily, we were spared the meltdown as another Chiropractic office nearby could see him right away.

When my husband went into the doctor's office, he looked like a pretty decent double for Igor (a description that was commented all weekend by more than one family member) and when he came out, he was looking more like the leaning Tower of Pisa, but at least the moaning was absent.  I took this as a very good sign because my husband is not a good patient. 

He was definitely sitting in the passenger seat now, but I was still trying to be careful of the pot holes. 

Seeing a huge one I could not avoid due to oncoming traffic in the opposite lane, I cringed and said to myself, "Oooooh, this ones going to really hurt."

Husband, "It's OK.  It didn't really hurt."

Me, "I meant my car."

This is where my day went oh so wrong.  Fluffy white flakes that looked suspiciously like snow started to fall.

Me, "That's snow."

Husband, "No.  That's coconut flakes."

Silence.

Husband, "Dried potato flakes?"

Silence.

Husband, suddenly sounding pretty damn cheerful for someone in pain, "We were only supposed to have a 20% chance of precipitation today."

Me, "That's snow.  I hate snow.  After all the snow we've had, snow just makes me feel homicidal."

Husband, "It's just precipitation.  You don't have to participate.  Just look straight through it at the palm tree."

Me, "Palm tree?"  We live in New England.

Husband, "Yeah.  Just keep looking.  You'll eventually see it."

Me, "Sometimes I really hate you."