Got2be

This morning I woke up unusually early. Andrew was up for work at 5:45, like always, and I woke up with a bit of a sore throat. I laid in bed while he got ready, trying to ignore the sights and sounds so that I could fall back to sleep in peace.

But I was awakened further when Andrew told me he had received a phone call at about midnight from someone who saw our truck door wide open. Let me backtrack a little here. I live in a condo complex. We have a super tiny one-car garage where Andrew parks his Ford Ranger. But the Chevy Silverado, my baby, doesn't fit so he lives in the parking lot - which makes me ridiculously nervous.

I fantasize about neighborhood kids hanging out in the truck when we're not looking- cuz that's what I did when I was a kid. I worry about cars parked too closely that will end up dinging the crap out of my precious truck. I fret over having to park it somewhere else when my favorite spot is taken-the one that's extra-wide and is next to a curb.

And my biggest worry of all is that it will get broken into, even though there is absolutely nothing of value inside. So when Andrew told me about this phone call at six this morning, I was freaked out, to say the least. But not so freaked out that I wanted to jump out of bed and investigate. Andrew quickly threw on some pants and a shirt, then headed toward THE BATHROOM.

TO DO HIS HAIR!!!!

I was like, um, hello, can you check on the truck please? Are you gelling your hair? Now? Seriously?

I kid you not. The man refused to walk out into the dark parking lot at the crack of dawn without his hair perfectly coiffed. For fear of what, I do not know. The garbage man may get a glimpse of his naked hair?

Now, I've witnessed my husband's hair gel obsession materialize in several disturbing ways, but so far this one tops the list.

Oh yeah, and it turns out the wide-open door wasn't the fault of a burglar at all, but me! I am losing it.