ANYWAY, I called the bank, ready to be told it was something similar. Except this time, it wasn't them. It was us. Our account balance was below the amount our house payment was (basically, we were about $300 short for that day of the month). When the bank lady told me what the balance was on the day of payment, I realized what happened. I thanked her for her time, told her I'd be in the next day to straighten it out.
I hung up the phone and turned to the Disabled Guy- who was standing there, ready to back me up with indignant sighs and proclamations that the bank lady wouldn't have heard.
Me: "Remember when we helped Christine with that rent thing?" (long story short- our daughter is moving into her own apartment this school year and miscalculated her move-in date and needed to pay rent for August instead of September. We helped her out till her paychecks become regular).
Me: "Did you deposit the check to cover it?"
DG: "No. You told me not to."
Me: "I never told you not to. I told you TO deposit it."
Then he recited this to me- which was almost word-for-word correct: "You said since we were giving her the money from this bank, I didn't need to write her a check from my other bank."
Me: "Yes. I DID say that. Because she needed a cashier's check to pay the rent, since she's mailing it. So I told you on payday I'd give her that check [almost $300 for her share- she has roommates] and then you could deposit the $300 in OUR account so she wouldn't be late on her rent having to wait for the check to clear."
He opened his mouth to debate then stopped. I could see the wheels turning in his head and it clicked. He only listened to half of what I had told him. He does that a lot. Now that we have that house payment thing settled (and totally his fault for not listening to ALL MY WORDS), we went on with our day- me finishing up the last of my ren faire photos for last week, him playing with his model train.
Around 6 PM, he came out of the basement and as he walked past me, he asked what we were having for dinner. I replied we were having frozen pizza. That's what we'd talked about the night before.
DG: "No, we didn't. We had hot dogs last night."
Me: "I know. We talked about it because Christine's work hours are fucked up. We decided to have hot dogs last night and frozen pizza tonight because she could make her own when she got home." (she's working on a movie set about an hour away- great experience, low pay).
DG: "I thought the frozen pizza was for Friday [tomorrow]."
Me: "She's not even going to be home for dinner tomorrow." (Fridays, she goes out to the faire and stays on site because her call time is so early in the AM).
DG: "But the pizza was for tomorrow."
Me: "No, we talked about it..."
Then, those wheels in his head clicked again.
ALL MY WORDS.
I exclaimed: "OH MY GOD!" at him, much like I did when I got off the phone with the bank when I realized it was his mistake and we weren't actually missing a random $300.
He said: "Man, now I want some Kool-aid."
Me: "What the hell does that have to do with anything?"
DG: "OH YEAH!"
Me: "Uh.... what?"
DG: "You keep saying it- OH YEAH! And now I want some Kool-aid."
Me: "I said OH MY GOD, not OH YEAH."
DG: "Are you sure?"
Me: "Yes. I'm positive. I'm positive you're a lunatic."
DG: "OH YEAH!"
ALL MY WORDS...
Now, on a much lighter note...
And, as I mentioned many, many times before, I go to ren faires. Last year, I met this guy and his wife at Bristol. He looked familiar to me, but I thought it was because I had met him previously at faire. Well, sort of... he's familiar because he's been on TV. That's Mike Trykoski from the TV show called "Wrecked". It was a show about the O'Hare Towing company and the many "adventures" they had on the job. And the Disabled Guy loved that show.
The day I took this photo, he was wearing a kilt. Now he dresses like a pirate- tricorn hat and all. His wife- Mary- dresses in long, flowing, comfortable dresses. They come to faire frequently and are season members of the Friends of Faire (which, as you recall, the Disabled Guy built benches for).
So, once, when I saw them, Mike told me that he had a T-shirt and hat to give to the Disabled Guy. Since they only come to faire every couple weeks (as his job allows), we didn't see each other for very long... anyway, he gave me the shirt and hat last week. I didn't tell the Disabled Guy about it- the hat and shirt, that is- I told him who I met the day I met them. Anyway, when I gave them to him, he didn't believe me. I had to remind him of how I knew Mike and Mary.
Then I took a terrible cell phone photo of him wearing them so I could show them next time I saw them at faire.