I’ve been mentally composing a letter that will never find its way to its intended recipient:
Dear Vandal(s),
While I would hesitate to advocate violence in response to your crime, I must admit that I would find it difficult to be unhappy if someone were to smash in your teeth the way you smashed in my car window. The poetic justice of that particular revenge fantasy appeals to me on a deep and somewhat disturbing level.
Regards,
The owner of a glass-strewn and extremely well-ventilated vehicle
So, remember that relaxing Shabbat I was planning to enjoy? The one where I was going to unplug from the world for a time and enjoy a little spiritual renewal? It was not to be.
My day had been going quite well until my doorbell rang; I answered it to find my neighbor on my porch asking me if I’d seen my car. Thinking she was referring to the flat tire we hadn’t yet gotten around to fixing, I said yes, thank you for pointing it out, we’re planning on getting all new tires anyway.
“No, not that! Your window, did you see your window?”
I had not. Nor was I, apparently, destined ever to see it in one piece again, for the glass on the driver’s side had been transformed from a functional car window into a sparkly collection of glass shards, a swath of glitter bestowed liberally on the street in front of my house and the interior of my poor car.
Most of you reading this are probably familiar with the Military Spouse Corollary to Murphy’s Law: “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong while your other half is out of town.” My husband had already been away for most of the week, and at the moment my day of rest was so rudely interrupted, was living it up at an airshow and having all manner of amazing aerial experiences of which I would have been extremely envious at the best of times.
Get this: while I was making a police report and trying to sweep up a million shards of broken glass without cutting myself and taping a garbage bag over the gaping hole in my car, that lucky so-and-so I married was getting to ride in “Fat Albert.” You know, the C-130 in the Blue Angels?
The Blue freakin’ Angels, y’all.
I’m so jealous I could just spit.
I love sharing so many interests with my husband, especially a fascination with aviation. Sometimes, though — if I’m being totally honest — it is hard to see him get to do things that I would love to do and experience things about which I can only dream. And when I hear about something like that when I am stuck at home having a horrendous day… well.
Please don’t misunderstand: I truly am excited for him when he is presented with these incredible opportunities, and I would never want him not to take advantage of such a chance just because I would envy him. I love hearing the joy in his voice when he shares this or that story with me.
Yesterday, though? You’re damn right I would have traded places with him. When I told him as much, he understood (of course he did; he’s a pretty wonderful guy like that). We agreed that it would be only fair if next time, I went gallivanting off to the air show and he stayed home to deal with any crap that might arise.
You don’t think his squadron will mind when I show up in his place for the next cross-country, do you?
To the Nth 
Awww. I know I already said this yesterday, but I am so sorry about your window! That just really stinks. And I completely understand your feelings about watching your husband doing the things you would love to do yourself. I think it’s perfectly fair for you to go to the Air Show next time — if you want to make a trip down to Beaufort at the end of the month, I’ll even go with you 😉 (My air show attending partner will be off in the ocean somewhere at the time.)
Thanks, hon, that means a lot. It’s good to have someone with whom to commiserate on this stuff, and it’s great to know that I’ll have an air show buddy should we ever find ourselves in the same town. 😀
Booooo! Stupid vandals. I feel some of your pain – NavyGuy’s car window was smashed several years back, and he lost his stereo and about 500 CDs that he was storing in the car between moves. His only solace was that the teenage vandals who stole his stuff probably weren’t expecting a music collection of opera and techno!
Hopefully you have a better day today!
Oh man, that sucks — we are very, very lucky the vandals were apparently just excited about smashing things and didn’t steal any of our stuff. I have to admit, the thought of the boors who broke into your car flipping through your husband’s, shall we say, eclectic music collection does put a funny image in my head. They’d probably have a similar reaction to our CD cases full of electronica and folk. 😉
Ugh, TOTALLY know how you feel. Last summer, Huzzy was in WA and I was still in Michigan. They had a gorgeous summer in WA (though a bit hot). Huzzy barely worked until 1 p.m. each day so went out and went fishing, etc.
I, on the other hand, was working 3 jobs and went a stretch of 56 days with only 4 days off. Not to mention, I was remodeling our house to get it ready to sell *and* taking care of our three dogs ALL BY MYSELF.
It pissed me off to no end when he’d complain that he broke his fishing pole and couldn’t fish for a few days (no joke!), complain he had a sunburn from hiking around with friends and complain that he was bored.
It was just so not fair. And neither is what you are dealing with.
Will you think less of me if I admit to stomping around the house, startling the cats and swearing to myself about how completely, utterly, rottenly unfair it all was? ‘Cause, uh… that might have happened. Just a little bit.
Blegh. It is so ingrained into me not to let anyone catch me saying, “It’s not fair!” I’m convinced that there is a whole chorus waiting in the wings to pop out and gleefully remind me that “Life isn’t fair!” I know that, and you know that (I’m sure know it at least fifty-six different ways, and probably a lot more), but dang it all, sometimes it’s too much.
Thanks for reading my vent session — your understanding helps a great deal.
I’d think less of you if you DIDN’T get mad.
And yup, life isn’t fair. Doesn’t mean we can’t complain every once in a while. 😉
That’s awful! I’m so sorry. I have to say that I take lots of malicious comfort in the fact that karma is a bitch, vandals!
Most of the time I wouldn’t trade places with my hubby. His job doesn’t look like any fun (that would probably be different if he were flying something other than a desk! 😉 but the TDYs in nice hotels and eating out every night really get to me. Ugh.
Here’s hoping for no more “excitement” in the near future!
Yeah, hearing about delicious dinners at exciting restaurants and hotels where someone else cleans the bathroom can be a little hard to take (especially when you’re not convinced they’re away for a sufficiently compelling reason, the irritation of which you expressed eloquently in this post). I try — with varying levels of success — to remind myself how eating out for every meal gets real old real fast, as we discovered when we were bouncing from Q room to temporary Q room during the house-buying process. (Curiously enough, the aforementioned reminder works a lot better for me when I have actually cooked something tasty for myself rather than busting out the Honey Nut Cheerios for dinner.)
Here’s hoping for no more “excitement” in the near future!
Amen to that! I’m totally up for a little stretch of boredom.
People are so incredibly selfish and rude. I’m sorry they broke your window. My mom had her car broken into a couple years ago and took her Book of Mormon plus my family pictures I had just given her. I mean seriously? What value did those things have to them. Absolutely nothing.
O.M.G I am absolutely MADLY in love with Fat Albert. I haven’t seen him since late summer 2008 at the Miramar Air Show. *sniff*
Just… wow. Stealing a religious text is a whole new level of low, especially considering that (if this religion major is not mistaken) the Book of Mormon is available for the asking if someone is overcome with the urgent need to read it. And snatching family photographs, too? To me, that implies an extra streak of callousness and cruelty; theft is easier to understand (though not to excuse) when the stolen items have monetary value. Ugh. I’m so sorry your mom had to go through that.
Fat Albert rules. That’s all there is to it. Sure, the jets are sexy, but there is nothing cooler than seeing a beast like the C-130 show off what it can do. 😀
I’m sorry, but that must have been soooo cool for your husband! I can imagine how jealous you were. The Blue Angels are awesome. I saw their show once in Pensacola. We took our boat out and had the best view in the house from the water. You totally need to dress up as your husband next time and get yourself on Fat Albert!
Oh, that is fantastic — your view from the water must have been phenomenal.