“There cannot be a crisis today; my schedule is already full”
-Henry Kissinger
So last night I learned (or was reminded) just how poorly my husband handles crisis. [Probably a characteristic one should look for in a soulmate, but hell, I gotta make life interesting.]
As we were going through our nightly routine, he noticed that one of the drawers in the bathroom wasn’t sliding correctly on its track. I bent down to look for the cause and discovered that not only had the track broken off from the back wall, but we also had an inch deep lake sitting in our bottom of our cabinet.
So here I go, pulling everything out of the cabinet, gathering towels to sop up the water, deciding there is way too much water for towels, running to the kitchen for a bowl, and pushing the water out into the bowl.
And where’s Rob in all of this? He had escaped to the kitchen to do the dishes, of all things. His chore--but he certainly was planning to go to bed last night without having done. He just couldn’t handle the bathroom crisis up close.
Surprisingly though, this morning when I turned on my car and there was an awful dashboard light and even more awful beeping noise, Rob was actually very helpful with my predicament. He interrupted his meeting to help me decide what to do and whether to take it to the dealership or not. [I did, and it turned out to be just low tire pressure from the temperature change :) ]
Maybe he just needs to be 50 miles away from the crisis epicenter.
My husband once had to talk me through a major plumbing crisis from 300 miles away. I was so upset that I was cursing loudly and crying and could barely see what I was doing while brown sewer water swirled around my ankles.
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