Mr.Wrekker is on a fishing trip to Mexico.
Before he left he made lists for me and Son-of-a-wrek to take care of while he was gone. Yep…my list went straight in the garbage. I ain’t got no time for this crap. It ain’t much, but I do have a life. Granted it’s full if pyschic cats, drones and other odd goings on. Son-of-a-wrek shit canned his list, as well. Last week I look out and there’s an unknown truck out by the barn. I hear a faint chopping sound. Someone is splitting fire wood. Must have been on the list, oops. Yeah, well whatever. I carried on as usual.
I took his stinky sleeping bag to the drycleaner. How embarrassing was that. Leaves and sticks flew out when the lady pulled it out of the bag. Crap. I get charged double, I’m sure.
Saturday, among a dozen or so texts I notice one from Mr.Wrekker about a butane delivery coming Monday ot Tuesday. What? Dang it. No time frame mentioned. I gotta wait around 2 days so I can pay the guy. Stoopid.
Son-of-a-wrek had folks over from a grill out. He brought me a steak. He asked did I put food in the Beagle kennels auto-feeders. Ummm…No. oh god. I feel like a heel. Poor puppies. We run out there, they still have a bit of food. We refill the feeders. I told Son not to tell his Dad, that was surely on his list, oops.
I get an email a few hours ago from Mexico. Not a single ‘wish you were here’ or inquiry into my health and well being. Oh, no. It was another ‘list’ item. He’s expecting 2 pkgs from somewhere for something and for some reason, I’m supposed to care about them. NOT! “Be home” for these deliveries please, sez he. Monday or Tuesday. Oh, hell yeah. I’ll be home anyway waitin’ on the freakin’ butane guy. At least he consolidated 2 of his list items.
I’m beginning to wonder what else was on my list. A pedicure? A shopping trip? An expensive lunch out for ol’ Beck? Yeah, I know I saw them on the list. Yep, I’m sure Mr.Wrekker C.C.can cover those things. I can wait til Wednesday.
3 items for a bad, bad, bad Beck.
I am sure PapaWrek wanted to enquire about your health, etc. but maybe the fish were biting.
Very nice of MamaWrek to hold down the fort, while he is fishing. You are a good sport. He is lucky to have you on the bridge.
The really sad part is, I have a coupon for a free pedicure. I’ll eat corndogs at Sonic for the massive expense of $3 bucks or so. My grand shopping trip will consist of pet supplies and paper towels. Gah!
Yanno, Beck, I’ve heard tales of a phenomenon where a husband will buy a gift for his wife days, nay even as much as two weeks in advance of a birthday or christmas or even their wedding anniversary. He will then hide said gift in the back of a closet or shed or garage or where ever occurs to him, and in the time between hiding the gift and the occasion of its giving, it mutates into a new rifle or shotgun or a couple of new fishing lures. Supposedly this has been documented to have happened many times though the process of mutation has never been actually observed.
Perhaps you could, in the interest of science and fighting ignorance od course, do an experiment to see if it works the other way. Buy, oh, I dunno, maybe a couple of fishing lures and hide them somewhere as a welcome home gift or something. Maybe, just maybe they’ll turn into jewelry or something in the interval between purchase and giving while hidden away.
You’re not bad, Beck. You’re just drawn that way. 
You’ve convinced me to try the corndogs.
I usually order Sonic footlong chili cheese coney.
I’ll get a corndog next time.
Not much into jewelry. I have a couple of nice sparklies i wouldn’t part with but that’s all I need. But, you’ve given me ideas. I’ll have to try you’re experiment. Hmmmm? I can see this turning into fun;)
Ah, yes. The corndog! Manna from heaven. It deserves to be a food group* all on it’s own. It’s self contained and on a perfert handle.
I could eat them everyday. Don’t blame me if you get addicted. Just eat responsibly. A designated driver may be necessary.
*my nutritionist has just the name for this food group. I won’t say it aloud.
Your husband sounds like a yobbo. Or are you exaggerating a bit?
Ummm…What’s a yobbo?
I’ll describe him, he’s the Patriarch of the whole family. Which means he’s the oldest. He’s universally revered, by his kids, his buds and his former coworkers. He’s akin or related by marriage to EVERYONE. The air he walks around in is all his own. He’s not mean but he expects things to be taken care of. Since he retired his hobbies and pursuits have taken over his life. As he travels around he remembers things that he should really be around for, so he needs me or Son-of-a-wrek to handle it. We get big laughs about throwing his lists away. Things usually get done anyway. It’s really not that bad. This is his second trip to Mexico to fish. It’s new. We’re just now getting it in our minds how far away he really is. You know, when the Cat’s away the mice will play.
I wonder if the dog in the Sonic corndog is related to the dog in the Sonic chili footlong dog.
Honest to GAWD, the footlong dog is the best hotdog I’ve ever had! All these years, I have figured a hotdog is a hotdog is a hotdog. Some are notably more terrible than others, otherwise, it’s a hotdog, yanno?
But that Sonic dog, OH MY!
~VOW
In the sweet, sweet gumdrops.
Oh, VOW…the dog is related. Yes, it is.
I find the foot-long coney has it’s…ummm…shortcomings. Not 1 foot long for one thing. Hard to eat with a plastic fork. And messy. As a recovering mess-maker I refuse to have chili inside my car. I have enough trouble with mustard on a corndog.
But, I do like the coney, as well.
Very bad, bad, bad!
I recognize a fellow Patrick McManus fan.
ROFL! Did neither of you even read the lists before tossing them? I mean,I get the need to declare one’s liberty, but at least check to see whether “Take Fido in for surgery” is there first! 
sounds like my families idea of a project … take the garden/s
something gets planted and them everyone else is supposed to do the maintenance … then it never gets done “right”
^^^Nah. We don’t read them. It’s usually things that we’ll figure out anyway. Plus he doubles down and texts or emails further instructions. I could paper the walls of Grand Central station with the notes and lists this man has left me. He doesn’t say much but dang he can make lists.
I can’t imagine why . . . 
LMAO!!! Honestly though, you guys are adorable. The way you have just worked out your own rhythm that works for the two of you truly gives me hope.