Friday, September 29, 2017

Cars, Kids, and Hairball Comedy

Are we settled yet? The simple answer is, almost. 

In the morning... before the problems started.
Tuesday, September 26th was Adam and I’s dating anniversary.  Twenty-five years ago we were making out in his mom’s living room, like you do when you are 17 and 18, and your parents aren’t home, when he asked me, “Do you want to be my girlfriend?” Of course I said yes; then we quit smooching and went boogie boarding Southside of the HB pier.  It was awesome. 

Never did I imagine that 25 years later we would be dealing with our brand new, used car that had just broken down, three kids stranded in a foreign school, and a bathroom that emanated sewer fumes and drainage problems. 

A few months ago I dreamed that life would be smooth and simple, and we would spend our anniversary evening sharing a bottle of Mendoza malbec as we enjoyed an ocean view in a quiet restaurant – just the two of us. 

That did not happen.


The day before we paid $8500 cash for a used Chevy Meriva, and we were excited to get into our routine.  We cancelled the pricey Transporte Escolar school bus and planned our commutes.  Adam was on afternoon pick up, and I was doing some shopping downtown.  When I arrived home at 5:15PM, I found Adam in a panic.  The car had broken down two blocks from the house, school was out, and the kids were stranded. 
No problems yet...

Yikes.  Our friend Mariana rescued us.  She called the school and went to pick up the kids; Adam left to try to move the car to the gas station – hoping it had only run out of gas, and I began preparing dinner. 

As I was slicing an eggplant and stirring the marinara sauce, the kids arrived home with their usual after-school chaos.  I was chopping, listening, helping with homework, nagging about cuadernos and tareas, when there was a knock at the door. 

Next thing I knew, we had a plumber in the bathroom asking for a plastic bag, so he could stick his arm down the backed-up floor drain.  A minute later, Thiago, our landlady’s son, showed up to play and wanted to know the date of his next Spanish lesson with Carmela.  Then Luciano, who introduced us to the car sales man, arrived anxious and distressed looking for Adam – I had no idea where he was.  At this point, he had been gone for over an hour.

As Luciano drove off, the plumber emerged from the bathroom with a grapefruit-sized hairball and wanted to leave it in the kitchen.  Really?  Had he not seen the size of our kitchen?  Maybe he missed it since it is about the same size as the HAIRBALL!!  Oh yes, please just toss it in the pot with the ravioli!  Delicious! 

Two minutes later, Adam showed up at the door.  By this time the hairball made it outside, and eventually Adam and Luciano united.  They spent the next 45 minutes on the phone with the car dealership as I got the kids fed and tidied up. 

Just after 7:00 Adam came in starving, but the car was fixed.  I reheated our mundane anniversary dinner on the stove, and we sent the kids off to read and relax.

The dream of a bottle of wine turned into a shared glass over a particle board table and luke-warm food, and our romantic dinner conversation focused on the car’s alarm system which caused the whole problem. 

Apparently our awesome Chevy has a “secret button” that the dealer forgot to mention.  It is attached to the wire under the dashboard, and when Adam is driving the car without my alarm box in the car, the auto thinks that it is being stolen, and it shuts off.  You have to press the secret button to tell the car that it is safe and in the hands of its loving owners (or any thief that knows where the magic button is hiding). 

By 8:00 dinner was complete, and our brains were fried.  Adam passed out on our bed shortly after.  There was no making out. 


The good news is that the bathroom doesn’t smell like a sewer anymore; the car works; the trash collectors disposed of the gargantuan hairball, and Tiago is coming over for his English lesson on Thursday.  Maybe in another month we’ll feel more settled, and Adam and I can plan that fancy date.  Happy 25th Anniversary Babe!  I love you!

We did celebrate with a delicious chocolate cake a few days later.


9 comments:

  1. Oh, dear...Argentina nonsense at its best!! I'm sorry it was such a lousy anniversary, life certainly is an adventure, isn't it? When we are there, before too long, we will watch the kids so you guys can go on a sweet date and enjoy that bottle of malbec ��❤��. Love you!

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    1. Gloria! It was a little unplanned, but it was wonderful! We are in ARGENTINA!!! Got to go with the flow! Love you!

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  2. Dear sweet daughter in law after being married to an Argentine and making many trips over the past nine years to Argentina I might be able to shed some light on the reasons for the everyday mundane problems you seem to be having.
    The reason giant hair balls clog the toilet and plumbers want to leave those hair balls in the kitchen ........IT'S ARGENTINA!
    Buying a car and not being told about the secret alarm switch......ARGENTINA!
    Missing a romantic anniversary dinner with a good bottle of wine ............wait for it...............ARGENTINA!
    It's going to take a few months for you to realize there's a reason for everything strange happening in Argentina and it's always the same reason..........ARGENTINA !!!

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    1. Honestly - I love it. I love Argentina. I am so happy here. These little mishaps make good stories, but I am enjoying every second of it.

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  3. Ahhh too funny my friend. I've so enjoyed your posts. Happy anniversary to you, hairball and everything! That makes for a hilarious memory you won't soon forget. Hugs to you! Chelsea

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  4. Anne, I am seriously happy that you did not post a foto of the hairball!!
    Huggers
    Dad

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  5. I'm so glad you got rid of the hairball and are able to flush freely because then when we come to visit we won't have to wear gasmasks.
    Congratulations on 25 years of a loving relationship. It takes work to achieve it. Rah, Rah!!!

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  6. We love the blogs. Keep them coming. Special hugs to the fruits of that loving relationship. Grammy

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