Friday, October 09, 2009
I am one of those girls that likes to be rescued and I am not ashamed to admit it. I enjoy being rescued from uncomfortable situations that I cannot fix and some that I can. I like it when men in my life come to my rescue out of chivalry or love. I am NOT ashamed to admit it; it was just how I was raised. I blame it all on my father. As a youth, anytime I asked for his assistance, he was there. When I was sick at college, he would stop everything, get in the car and drive two hours to bring me home. If I had a flat tire, my dad would find a way to me...no matter the location. He made me feel special because he never complained. He did it for love; and I knew it and loved him for it. He made me feel safe and wanted.
There were two instances this week in which I needed to be rescued. Nothing big mind you, but problematic none the less. The first instance was in the parking lot of a bagel place I frequent regularly. Not thinking, I kept the air conditioner in my car running which in turn drained the battery of any power. Sure enough, I turned the ignition and heard the familiar "clicking' that indicates that my battery was dead. Drat! My husband was out of town, so I immediately called up a few male friends who I knew would know what do do. No one was home so I was out of luck. Sadly, I started to panic and wanted to cry. I wanted my dad and while he lives over 1000 miles away, I knew that if I called him he would COME. But I knew that was probably an unrealistic solution so I thought of a viable Plan B.
So I called a local tire place located just down the street and asked if there was anyone there who could come to the bagel place and give my car a jump. Sure enough, a young boy no older than 20 years old offered to come down and help. He arrived with the power box in hand and hooked it up to my car, but it did not work. He offered to call AAA for me, but I was not sure how long that would take so I asked him if he would consider bringing back jumper cables to jump my car the old fashioned way. I knew he was busy and had many more things to get done, but he nodded his head and off he went to get cables. After about 10 minutes I was on my way; my car all juiced up. I offered the young man $20 for his trouble but he would not accept it. Rescued!
The second instance is gross, I assure you. It involves a certain insect that, I am sure, line the walls of Hell: Roaches. I hate them. They scare me more than any other creature on this planet partly because they are ugly and partly because they show up when you least expect them. Such was the case earlier in the week when my son Nick mentioned that he saw a big roach next to my lower kitchen cabinets. I dreaded walking near the part of the kitchen where the devil's favorite insect might be. The next day, I had forgotten all about the roach and started making dinner. Sure enough, the little demon showed it's tenticles. It's long brown body scurried past my foot and I started screaming as if my arm was cut off and bleeding all over the floor! Henry thought the whole show was hilarious and mimicked my squeals. But my husband, Chris, instantly knew what was going on. He knows that certain pitch...the cockroach scream.... where he will, no doubt, be called on to save his wife.
"Chris, I saw a roach! Get it!" Chris calmly looked around the cabinets and could not find evidence of any devil roach. He went into the garage to get some insect poison, returned to the kitchen and sprayed the places where he thought it might go.
Not two hours later, I open up the cabinet under the sink, jumped back about three feet and saw IT. Devil cockroach was there..on it's back..its little legs squirming in the air, but basically dead. YUCK! My hero scooped the thing up in a napkin and disposed of it! Rescued and loved!
Hug your hero today and let him know that he does not have to rescue a damsel from a fire-breathing dragon any longer. But saving her from dead batteries and evil cockroaches...the modern dragons..is hugely appreciated!