5Ws Wednesday (but not really)
The question today doesn’t start with a W, it starts with a D, as in, did I ever tell you? I can’t really finish that question without turning it into the full story. It’s hard to summarize what I did in one sentence. I can’t really say, “Did I ever tell you about the time I…because…and I couldn’t…because…? This is definitely one of those stories that you really need to use your imagination to picture. With that said…
Picture it. A Walmart parking lot. It’s a sunny day and warm. Josh and I had just purchased a mini-fridge. This was when we lived in our old apartment. The one that was exactly one tiny little bedroom. Not nearly big enough to house us and our hobbies. Josh was majorly into making cocktails back then. Actually, I think that may have been around the start of his interest in fancy cocktails and mixology. He bought a mini-fridge for our kitchen because we were both tired of our main refrigerator being crowded with craft beer and all the little mixes and syrups and other things that he had made for cocktails. Believe me, I was incredibly grateful he decided to get a mini-fridge. What happened between the time we rolled it out of the Walmart and carried it into our apartment will be a story that lives in infamy for the rest of our days.
The mini-fridge came in a big cardboard box that had those really strong plastic straps around it. You also need to know that we don’t have a truck. Not back then and not now. At least not one that we can use for personal use. Josh’s work truck doesn’t count. As much as I brag about what can fit into my Kia, this mini-fridge was not one of those things. It was not going to fit in Josh’s car either. We couldn’t get it into the trunk and we couldn’t get it through the doors to put in the backseat. Even taking it out of the box wouldn’t have helped.
So there we were. Standing in the Walmart parking lot with a large box that we needed to get home that wouldn’t fit in our car. Our apartment was only about two miles down the road. Very simple journey. One turn out of the parking lot, drive straight for a couple miles and then turn right into the apartment community. Super easy. Which is why Josh convinced me that his idea of how to get this mini-fridge home was not as bad as I was making it out to be.
Oh but it was. And it is something we have frequently joked about since that day. Well, since maybe the day after that day. It took me time to forgive him for making me do it and to see the humor in what I did.
Josh’s scathingly brilliant idea was for us to put the back seats down. And why were they put down? So I could lay in the trunk of course! He propped that box onto the trunk opening so that it was resting nicely on the open edge. It wouldn’t fit in the trunk, but it could rest on the opening of it. My job was to lay in the trunk and hold onto those plastic straps around the box as he drove home.
So that’s what we did. More like, that’s what I did. All he did was drive the two miles down the road as slowly and carefully as reasonably possible. To include the abnormally high speed bumps in the apartment community.
While he drove, I kept the tightest of death grips on those plastic straps. If I let go, that box would go tumbling off the back off the car and into the path of the car behind us. It would be a disaster for all involved. Josh, the kind soul that he is, reassured me with kind words during the whole journey. Words like, “we’re almost there!” And “One more mile!” And “turning in now!” And “don’t let go!” And “hold on tight!” By the time we got home, my “hold on tight” power was depleted. My heart needed to calm down and my hands needed to relax and uncramp from the unbreakable hold I had on those straps. Josh tried to laugh it off when we got home. Too soon. I did not find it as funny.
I wish I could say that was the last time I laid in the trunk of Josh’s car to keep something from falling out of it. But I’d be lying if I did. At some point later, I laid in the trunk to hold down a tall bookshelf that we were moving from our apartment to his mom’s house. This time I got to stare out the back of the trunk and make awkward eye contact with the people in the cars behind us at red lights.
That journey, though longer in distance, was not as difficult as the one with the mini-fridge. Both trips have given Josh and I fodder for jokes for the rest of our lives. That, and motivation to buy a truck. Or at least an suv. Or really, anything bigger than a 4-door sedan.
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