So hey. I was all ready to go tractor-trailerin’.
I was primed to climb up into the cab of 40 tons of rolling thunder and head out down the highway, the breeze blowing like freedom through my hair.
Oooo. baby, baby. I was soooooooooo ready.
I’d thunk about it and thunk about it and finally figured out a way I could do it out without having to shut down my company and risk loss of income. I’d talked to the CDL (Commercial Driving License) course instructors. I’d read a bunch a blogs and websites about the trucking industry. And of course, I’d looked at all the trucks I’d love to buy and drive all over the country. Did I mention the freedom blowing? The hair?
I’d decided. I’d even blogged that it was a done deal and I was doing it.
And then a little teeny tiny detail I’d somehow overlooked, forgotten, poked it’s shitty little head up.
I forgot to tell Miss Carol.
I have this weirdly narcissistic thing that happens when I do stuff like this-I just assume everyone around me knows what I’m thinking about and is insync with me and all my hopes and dreams.
Call it clueless assholery.
So when I dropped the bomb on Miss Carol on Friday night, her face crumpled and then she got out of the hot tub and then she got pissed.
You are such a fuckhead she said. WHEN were you going to tell me? she shrieked.
Tonight? I ventured?
(um, did I mention clueless assholery?)
It’s always fun being married and we’re working it out and I still think I’ll be driving one of those big fuckers in the next month or so.
But, man, Miss Carols’ just a little ticked off.