Mood: Relieved (It's Friday and my super great boss is back from his sabbatical. YAY!)
What I'm Watching: Cash Cab (Its time for a RED.LIGHT.CHALLENGE! Seriously, I'm frightened by the amount of useless trivia crammed into my tiny little brain.)
I know that men and women are biologically different. I took 8th grade biology and learned all about the bits and pieces the anatomy and the gene science behind it. What they fail to tell you during those classes are the true differences between men and women have very little to do with anatomy. Oh, sure, that 'y' chromosome is responsible for all kinds of "guy" traits like hairy chests, deeper voices and that annoying need to attempt to jump up and hit the tops of doorways and awnings, but really, it's also responsible for what I like to call the 'y' factor.
A prime example of this phenomenon occurred this morning as my loving husband was getting ready to depart for work. Like a 2009 incarnation of Donna Reed, I walk him to the door and wave as he's pulling out of his parking spot. Which, as it turns out, was quite a good thing since his back tire was completely pancake flat.
I flagged him down and pointed out the issue. Considering the fact that he works about 40 miles away and that, if he took time to change his tire, he would be late for work. I offered to let him take my car. I can walk to work as it's not terribly far from our home.
He refuses the offer. Why? Because his car has an "awesome" sound system and he wants to listen to his 'tunes' as he drives. *sigh* FINE. Besides, he says, changing a tire doesn't take that long.
1/2 an hour later, as I was attempting to lift the back end of his car, I was begging to differ with him. Turns out his jack is too big to fit under his car when said car has a completely flat tire. Unfortunately, as I'm not the Incredible Hulk, I was unable to lift the back end of the car a sufficient distance. Once again I offered to let him take my car. The answer? Still no.
Getting nowhere with his jack, I suggested that perhaps the jack in my car would work. Of course, getting at this jack required taking everything out of my trunk (no easy feat) so I once again made the offer of my car. Of couse, we all know the answer by now...don't know why I kept asking.
Luckily, my jack did work. Yay. Scott wrestled his tire off the car, we pulled the tiny spare donut type tire out of the trunk and installed it. When the car was let down, it was painfully obvious that this tiny tire was all but flat itself. Once again I reminded him that he was going to be VERY late for work and that maybe he should take my car. Nope. *Sigh*
He got air in the tire and set off on a 40 mile drive utilizing a tire that is rated not to allow speeds in excess of 50 MPH. And what does this genius do? He gets on the interstate where the speed limit is 65 MPH.
Yep. It's truly is the 'y' chromosome. As in "why do you have to be so stubborn?" and "why do you always have to do things the most difficult way possible?"
*Sigh* Really? I'm pretty sure I wouldn't get convicted if I actually got a jury of my peers.