Yesterday afternoon I was walking to the subway, when suddenly I realized that if I were murdered on my way home, no one would pick up the kids from school. And with my personality, it’s sort of a miracle that I haven’t been repeatedly murdered already.
I nearly keeled over from the weight of that responsibility right on the spot.
So I emailed Husbandrinka:
I’m about to go on the subway. If I get killed, please make sure to pick up the kids at 5:30. Also, we’re out of pasta.
When I exited the subway twenty minutes later, I saw that Husbandrinka emailed back:
I’ll get the pasta.
And then he didn’t email or call to make sure that I was still alive.
So obviously I assumed too terrified at the prospect of losing me to check in to make sure that I was still alive.
But fortunately not too scared to get pasta.
And yet when he came home with the pasta (whole wheat!), he didn’t look at all alarmed. Or surprised to see me sitting at the computer, alive.
Alive and reading an article that I was quoted in about some proposed legislation in New York State that would outlaw such games as Red Rover and Kickball.
I read my quote with pride to Husbandrinka:
He was proud too. I know because he said:
You sound like Sarah Palin.
And he’s not even a Republican, so I can’t take it as a compliment.
But I need your help.
I need a last name. And since I’m anonymous, I can’t use my own. Or Husbandrinka’s.
So Wendi had the great idea that I should have a contest for a last name. A Name Marinka Contest, if you will. With no prize.
Let me have it!
One year ago ...
- Found - 2013