Yesterday morning a firestorm of panic was released
against my wife. As she was about to sit down and eat her breakfast, in the 10
minutes she allocates for this purpose in her manic morning routine, she received
three urgent requests for her services all within five minutes of each other.
Sadly the first request was mine:
“Honey, can you help me figure out how to upload
this video into my blog?”
Hair still wrapped in a towel, she hustled into the
study to get to the bottom of my latest technological failing.
Next emergency was also, sadly, of my making. Somehow,
I had failed to send in the payment for Kaitlin’s county tags, and now she was
driving around proudly displaying her NOV. ’12 stickers for all to see. Jon,
who was here and had volunteered to take care of the problem, needed the title
number for the car. So naturally he went to the fount of all information having
anything to do with the Dunnevant household. While Pam was feverishly scouring her
computer looking for a Honda Civic title, she gets an agitated text from our
son:
“Mom, I need for you to scan a copy of my Social
Security card to Westminster’s personnel office immediately or I won’t be
approved to attend the Spoleto Festival!”
This, I’m sure brought back fond memories for Pam of
those wonderful calls Patrick used to make from Sherri Matthews’ chorus room
back in high school:
“Mom, I left my music folder in my room!! I think it’s
on the floor next to the TV right beside that pile of empty juice bottles, next
to all my dirty clothes. If you don’t bring it here in the next 10 minutes,
Mrs. M is gonna kill me!!!”
Now with three balls hovering in the air over her
head, Pam had time to think about what she faces over the next 7 days, everything
from wedding planning details to end of school reporting, pending teacher
license re-certification deadlines, and as of two days ago the new prospect of …wait
for it…jury duty! So much for breakfast.
To her, my life must seem like a sunset stroll at
the beach. All I have to do is run a business and make money, and remember to
buy county tags on time. My record on all three is spotty. I have loads of
spare time to work out four times a week, play an occasional round of golf, and
write this blog. Pam’s spare time gets quickly co-opted by a thousand little
brushfires that only she can put out. She is the only indispensible person I
know. I feel like I should do something to help, like suddenly become more
useful at the stuff I don’t know how to do. Or maybe I should send her one of
those nice e-card things to brighten her day. The problem is, I can’t figure
out how to download the link from the website thing, because it keeps saying
that I need the latest version of something called “Java script”…
“Hon, could you come in here for a second and help
me with this??”
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