It's February 17, 2011. I have been at school for nearly 14-hours. I was tired, hungry and angry. Husband was lost, again. But not wanting to be redundant, he added a special twist to his predicament--he also ran out of gas. I was seething!
And so he was sitting in the car waiting for AAA to come and refill the tank. Minor problem: they couldn't find him. He was parked on the side of the road of an exit ramp. And it could be any exit ramp as far as he's concerned because he couldn't narrow it down further. And why should he? If he could then he wouldn't be lost now would he?
Tired and sleepy, I decided to take the cab home. When the driver asked me where to, I resolutely gave our home address and immediately after I felt a pang of guilt and remorse. It's not his fault, really. Anyway, he's been sitting in the car for hours as well and he likewise had a long day. Plus, it was a particularly chilly night. I relented and asked the driver to make a U-turn with instructions of checking out every exit ramp within the vicinity in search of my husband.
Thank goodness the driver was up to it. God bless my harmless, juvenile look.
We sped into the night, experiencing a rush of thrill that only delivering a movie classic line "follow that car" can stir up. Only I modified it to a more adventurous "let's check every exit ramp!"
By the fourth ramp, we found him. He didn't see me initially but when he did, he knew everything will be alright.
I'm glad I didn't succumb to my anger. There are really more important things in life than feeding one's frustrations. Starring and successfully orchestrating a search and rescue, for instance.
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