Anyway, Friday night was out of the question because his mom was coming over to watch Miss America. She had done some sewing for Miss Missouri, and wanted to see her work on stage. Friday night got switched to Saturday night only after it was too late to make plans for Friday. So Saturday morning James started with his one true love... the 'Burb.
I guess he was working on the carburetor Saturday... not really sure. All I know is, our house stunk of gasoline and oil. He started around 9 or 9:30 am, and said he was "going to work 'till lunchtime on the Suburban and then head to the office". Apparently I didn't understand what this meant was, "I'm going to work on this monstrosity until you decide to do anything with your day, at which point I will come in and ask you to wait for me to clean up so we can drive 45 minutes and spend more money buying more crap for this beast." Crap, in this case, meant rocker panels and mirrors. Somehow I missed the cue, and by the time I decided I'd had enough and headed out to take T to the bookstore and grocery shopping, James headed in asking me to wait so we could all go get the crap (aka, rocker panels and mirrors).All things being equal, it was a nice drive other than the fact that I went. We did end up stopping at the bookstore on the way back, but I regretted it before we even got home. By then, it was dinner time and I had nothing prepared, hadn't been to the grocery store, and James' mom was coming over to watch Miss America any time.
Sunday was equally entertaining. James started on the Suburban around 9 am, planning again to work until lunchtime and head to the office. Anyway, around 2 pm I decided to head to the grocery store since he was still working on lowering the back end of the 'burb. He was quite sure I would feel differently about the beast after it lost 4-6" in height. It's like we've never met.
I headed outside to tell him I was going shopping, and was met with "D'ya know what's funny? Or not so funny?" Good Lord, do I want to? "That break line I replaced last weekend? I just cut right through it. Want to go get me a new one?" Ummm....no, not really. But, what the heck... the guy at Autozone got a laugh out of it. I was in there approximately 12 seconds before he told me I could put the line James sent me with on the counter... because, from the look on my face, I really didn't want to be holding it. Not unless I'm beating it over a '71 Suburban.
Get home, give him the break line, ask how long it will be. Why do I even bother asking? Twenty minutes to get the wheels back on, maybe an hour total to get the break line buttoned up. Fast forward THREE HOURS... he finally comes in and cleans up for dinner. He even asked what he could do to help. I think he could actually see my loathing of the 'burb oozing out of my eye sockets. He can be pretty perceptive like that.
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