The Key to a Happy Marriage is Hidden in the Garage
I was trying to type a new blog post and contemplating my stupidity for publishing my October Dead Rubber Post on the first day of October when I clearly had much more to write about on 10/1 than I do today, 10/2.
Suddenly, Cap’n Firepants knocked on the door.
For those of you who don’t know, Cap’n Firepants is my husband. And there is no reason for him to be knocking on the door, as he actually lives in the same house as I do. And since he didn’t actually say anything when he knocked, there was no reason for me to know that it was Cap’n Firepants. Since it was the garage door from where the knocking sound emanated, I assumed it was him. But it took me a moment to realize what this meant.
He was locked in the garage. Again.
Yes, this is a common occurence. Fortunately, I was home, and could come to his rescue. There have been other notable times this was not the case.
One time, back in our old house, pre-Dimples and Wonderbutt, I got locked in the garage. I luckily had my cell phone (yes, the same one that Cap’n Firepants had given me as a loving gift 2 years before when I was hoping for an engagement ring), and was able to call Cap’n Firepants at work to come let me back into the house. We later realized, by catching her red-pawed, that Mrs. Pain in the Butt, our Golden Retriever, was the culprit. Cap’n Firepants went into the garage, and Mrs. P.I.B. hit the knob with her muzzle and paw a few times, effectively locking him in while I watched. We think her intent was to try to follow him in.
We learned to keep a house key in the garage for just such occasions, and it came in handy more than once.
One day, a few years later, I got a phone call at the school where I worked. My students had not entered my classroom for the day yet, so I was able to take the call. This was the conversation:
Cap’n Firepants: Lovely Wife, remember the spare key we loaned to our good friend a couple of weeks ago when we went out of town, and our good friend agreed to watch Mrs. P.I.B.?
Me (wondering why Cap’n Firepants has chosen this odd time for a stroll down Memory Lane): Yes.
Cap’n Firepants: Did our good friend return the key?
Cap’n Firepants: And where would that key be now?
Me: Uh, on my keychain.
Cap’n Firepants: So, the key that we kept in the garage for times we got locked in is hanging from your keychain right now?
Me (still not cluing in to why this might be a relevant topic to discuss at 8:00 in the morning when I am about to have kids in my classroom at any moment): Yes.
This is when Cap’n Firepants proceeded to explain to me that he got locked in the garage that morning when he was taking out the garbage. Dimples, a mere two years old at the time, had been upstairs watching Little Einsteins on T.V. For some inexplicable reason, she did not open the child safety gate and respond to the banging on the door and calls to let Daddy in. Mrs. P.I.B. answered him back, but, considering she was the reason he was stuck in there to begin with, she was not much help. Apparently, she is an expert at locking doors, but can’t reverse the trick.
So, you might be thinking Cap’n Firepants was calling me from his cell phone to ask me to drive back home and let him in. Nope, he was already in.
Wily Cap’n Firepants knew that our garage shared a wall with the closet in our Master Bedroom. So he took advantage of the many tools that
littered adorned our garage, and cut a hole into our closet. Then he crawled through and checked on Dimples, probably giving Mrs. P.I.B. and Lovely Wife a few choice words along the way. Then he called me.
Fortunately, Cap’n Firepants does not hold a grudge for very long. Very fortunate b/c I am now going to reveal the one little detail that explains why he did not solve his problem by just opening the garage door and going to the neighbor’s house to ask to use her phone.
Cap’n Firepants was not wearing his pants. Just his Cap’n Fireboxers.
The moral of this story is to marry someone who is very forgiving, particularly if you happen to be somewhat forgetful. And to make sure they have no interest in reading your blog.
Posted on October 2, 2011, in Blogging, Cap'n Firepants, Humor, Marriage, Memory Loss, Mrs. P.I.B., Relationships and tagged Cap'n Firepants, humor, locked out, marriage, Mrs. P.I.B., personal, relationships. Bookmark the permalink. 21 Comments.