So I didn’t sleep last night, because of the PAP PAP PAP (heard it again this morning from somewhere up inside the skylight; nearly knocked me off the stairmaster).

Between the actual noise and the subsequent fits of wonder, the only hour of rest I got was one after which I was supposed to be awake. The first thing I did was cancel plans for tonight that I’d confirmed a month ago (I’ll see you before you go, Steph, I promise). The second thing I did was start planning for bedtime.

Normally, this is the point at which I would call time out for Prudence, but I really feel like I haven’t done anything since I finished varnishing the back hall a week ago.

(That’s because, says Goody, You really haven’t…)

So crap. What can I do that will be like really doing something that I can do between the time I get home from work and go to pick up Johnny? Something that won’t make me all sticky, or at least any stickier than I already am in this spray-mount-trying-to-pass-for-air weather we’ve been having…?

The phone rang as I was contemplating this. I almost didn’t answer it, but the ID said Curry Hardware.

Huzzah! The screens are in!

Johnny and Larry are still working at that house right by there. I’ve been picking him up at Larry’s house at night, but if I pick him up at the job instead I can kill two birds with one stone, pop them in when we get home (the screens, that is, not birds) and be back in bed before the nightly news (which I actually don’t watch, but it sounded good. I do read the paper, though – on actual paper – if that counts for anything).

At this point I was almost late for work, but I –quick – called Larry’s cell phone to tell Johnny the new plan. No answer. I left a message telling him the plan, and asking him to ask Johnny to leave me a message at the house telling me that he got this message — because he’s working only about four miles from where I park the car and there’s really no sense in me going all the way home just to wait for him to call.

Except apparently I didn’t exactly say all that. Apparently I just asked him to leave me a message, and assumed the rest was just implied.

When am I going to learn that Johnny doesn’t understand the concept of leaving messages?

I called all day from work to check the messages on the machine. Nothing, nothing, nothing. So when I got back to the Chuck (the Fucking Truck, remember?), I went home. I wasn’t going to go all the way to Milton if he was already on his way to Larry’s house in Randolph, was I?

I stopped in Quincy on the way to pick up his prescription (if you see him, tell him how lucky he is to have me, okay?) and by the time I got to Weymouth there was a message on the answering machine wondering where I was.

I love him I love him I love him I love him.

Okay.

One of these days we’re going to get ourselves some cell phones. Except, really, we probably won’t.

So I’m not going to get into all about the funny noise Chuck started making when I got back in him, and I won’t get into how I thought Johnny wasn’t there when I arrived. I won’t mention how, when he came out after all, he shouted “You’re late!” and laughed at his own cleverness. I won’t tell you about how he wanted to know why I hadn’t brought a a beer for him, and I won’t talk about how, when I asked why he hadn’t left a message like I asked him to, he answered “How was I going to leave you a message if you weren’t even home?”

He’s really not retarded. Really.

Right about when I finished explaining to him the concept behind this thing we call an answerphone, is when I realized I’d forgotten the order slip for the screens I was supposed to be on my way to picking up.

And the order was under Johnny’s name.

And I didn’t take his name when we got married.

And Johnny had left his wallet in Larry’s truck.

Which was on it’s way to Randolph.

Thank god for Curry Hardware, that’s all I can say. It took them a while to find the order without the slip, but they did find it, they even didn’t make us pay for them again or anything.

On the way home, Johnny offered to install them when we arrived, but I snapped “I have to do it!”

Because if I didn’t get to put them in, then I’d have to find something else to do.

And we all know that wasn’t gonna happen.

Day 36: Accomplished.
Time: Including going all the way home and back again? No? Okay fine. About fifteen minutes.
Cost: Nothing. If I don’t get to count the time then I don’t have to count the gas.
Going To Bed At 6:53 On A Summer Evening When I Haven’t Even Eaten Dinner Yet: Pre-Pubescent