Notice the title... My words while driving along 60 miles an hour and trying to get home without stopping…
Teri's next words were, "Not junk, but FLOTSAM!"
('Flotsam' is an acronym for 'finding-lots-of-trash-sitting-along-[road] median.) (I just made that up, but it IS. I just know it...)
We were driving home from Christmas visiting two days ago when Teri, who is generally quite alert, became MORE alert all of a sudden. Sat straight up in her seat. Uh oh... Why? Because she 'spotted something' alongside the road. How, I don't know, because it flashed by so fast. (I could be driving 100 miles per hour and she still can spot something with a look of, "Hmmm...")
She then turns to me...
I might as well give up at that point because when the One-You-Love looks at you 'that way' she is wanting an affirmative 'yes' to whatever request she is about to make. (Every married guy knows what look I'm talking about.) To be fair, Teri is reasonable. If we go to the effort of turning around and finding our way back to it, if it truly isn't salvageable, we leave it and drive on.
So back we go...
Turns out it was a wooden step-stool used by service trucks. From the looks of it, it wasn't from a 'professional' service truck because those type of guys 'just order another' when something they use starts to show a little wear-and-tear. No, this looked like the kind used by 'Ole-Joe-down-the-road' who had been using this comfortable looking stepstool for years. Something he wouldn't want to part with.
(He should have tied it down better...)
After we stopped and Teri was looking it over, I knew that I was sunk when I heard one word come out of her mouth – “Sweet...” To Old Joe down the road somewhere it was now a goner. To us? Well, I'm glad Old Joe didn't hear some of her final words about it as we continued down the road. After going on about it a bit I finally tuned her out when I heard the words...
"...and I will paint it a cute color, and....."
I let my mind drift elsewhere.
~ Himself ~
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