Isn’t it funny how after you get a big truck, everything else in life pretty much becomes secondary? It’s like having a giant, diesel-drinking baby. Your existence ceases to revolve around anything other than feeding and caring for your huge metal infant.
Example: “Honey, we’re going to put new floors in the truck, and if there’s enough material left over, I’ll cover that hole in the bathroom.” Or, “After I fill up, we’ll have $1.50 left over and we can split a hot dog from the roller rack!”
Joy and rapture.
I joke, and may exaggerate just a tiny bit. I’m thankful for our truck, it helped George and I provide ourselves with a nice place to live, and for the first time in our married lives, new couches to put inside the place we live. Of course, about 30 seconds after I made the last payment on the new couches, the cat got fifth wheel grease on all four of his paws and attempted to destroy my personal happiness by running into the house, straight for my new couches.
This is where things within our blended little family of fur-babies and truck-babies devolved exponentially. Imagine the scene:
We’re outside, the front door of the house is open because, you guessed it, we’re trying to polish and clean the truck. The kitty, who is not known for his calm nature, gets spooked by something, jumps up on the fifth wheel, realizes it’s basically a giant fly-paper for cats, gets really freaked out, and streaks off toward the house. Of course, I help the situation by screaming “MY COUCHES!!!” and go tearing off after him.
It’s easy to find him, because there are four black, sticky paw prints for every foot of ground he covered on the once-clean hardwood floors. He’s also somehow managed to hit every single throw rug along the way to the bedroom, where he wedged his dirty little self under the bed and started hissing at everything in general, but most specifically my hand, as it grabbed him and pulled him towards me. For future reference, should any of you ever be in this situation, it is a very bad idea to drag a hissing, spitting, biting cat with fifth-wheel grease all over him toward your face, as eyeballs are the main target for predators when they’re being dragged somewhere. I know this from experience.
