While I won't reveal all of the gritty details of the deal between Seth and I regarding The Blue Devil (to read about Seth's car, if you haven't already, click here), the gist was that, if he agreed to our acquiring a new car, then I had to agree not to "bitch about" or "make fun of" The Blue Devil.Because we were driving a 12+ year old Honda Accord with so many cracks in the windshield that it seemed always like we were driving through a desert lightening storm, and because LL's carseat moved around in the backseat like it was an unsecured bag of groceries, and because it was always so freaking loud to drive, and because we had an opportunity to buy, at a great price, a very spiffy SUV, I swiftly agreed to Seth's plea.
After a swift shake of hands to seal our deal, Seth immediately gave a residential upgrade to The Blue Devil, promoting its position from the driveway to the garage. That was in mid-June. Presumably noticing my ferocious glare upon pushing (yes, pushing, because it has never started, not ever, since becoming a fixture in my driveway) The Blue Devil into the garage, he promised that once a snowflake fell, the garage would be all mine.
Let me just tell you that, in the 6 months that The Blue Devil resided in the garage, it had a transformation akin to that of a fetus developing in a womb. But instead of growing tiny hands and feet, The Blue Devil "grew" 2 kayaks and a hammock on its hood. Instead of developing an elaborate network of brain cells, The Blue Devil acquired a billion extension cords and various other types of plugs and electrical gadgets, their intended use and application unknown. Instead of lungs and a heart, The Blue Devil embraced an obscene number of soda cans and beer bottles. Instead of the gentle caress of a mothers hand on swollen belly, the Blue Devil snuggled with the lawn mower, some old license plates, several strollers, some camping pads, a plug-in cooler, an old diaper, a couple of ladders, and 4,687 various other items.
One noted difference. A fetus moves. All by itself. The Blue Devil? Didn't so much as budge an inch. In six months.
One of the problems with this whole scenario is that it's really, really difficult to not make fun of The Blue Devil. See the picture? See what I mean?
For instance, not long ago, I was thinking it would be nice to have a fire in the fireplace. The logs were in the back of the garage, teetering precariously on the rungs of a ladder. However, anything past the first 12 inches of the garage was virtually impassable. When I asked Seth if he knew how to get the logs from the back of the garage, I really wanted to follow that question up with a sarcastic dig about what a huge piece of shit the car was...something along the lines of "You know, I'd crawl over the hood and get them myself, but I'm afraid I'd set off your fancy car alarm." A great joke that I would have delivered deadpan and all. But, no. I made a deal. And that's just one joke out of a million that I had to hold back. I have scar tissue on my tongue, it's been bitten so many times.
Only when Seth actually had to move out of state (and, quite after the first snowfall), did The Blue Devil get pushed back out of my garage, down the driveway, and into the street (pictured above). It was never once driven. And now it's some other woman's problem. Hopefully she doesn't make a "no teasing" rule and is saved the bloody tongue.
