Now that we have a (dum, dum, dum) car payment, I’ve become my father, “Turn that light out! We have to pay for that light, you know!”
For the past few months we’ve been living in great luxury, leaving a little light on in the living room, even though we don’t need it. It just looks cute glowing in front of the window. I’ve been feeling very giddy with the extravagance of it, thinking, “Maybe I am an American after all!”
Because I’m not like many of the other Americans I know. Oh, I just don’t tell you guys about it because sometimes I get tired of being the “quirky” one. Americans are known world-wide for being gleefully reckless with resources. But I really don’t understand America’s love affair with electricity. For example, why would anyone routinely use an energy wasting, electricity hogging dryer when the air will dry your clothes just as effectively…for free.
Either I’m not a real American or those two years living in England during my formative years ruined me for life as an American forever after.
The other day, I was somewhere listening to a speaker talk about how different cultures feel about personal space. (Oddly enough, this was after I’d written my post about not liking when people hug me.) This man is from the south and he was explaining that southerners are real friendly-like and will put a hug on you faster’n you can say, “Oooeee! Gimme some o’ that ‘gator kebob!”
I know that they like to eat ‘gators in the south because when I went to Georgia on a business trip, I ate ‘gator. That trip to Georgia was very annoying. The accents! They were so over the top that I almost told the woman in the hotel gift shop to “knock it off and talk like a normal person.” They sounded so fake. But apparently, they really do talk with that accent all day long. Insanity!
This Southern speaker was talking about being the odd one out when he lived in England where they most certainly do not “put hugs on you.” I’m pretty sure that “putting a hug on you” in England will get you put in the stocks with rotten tomatoes thrown about your head.
Being that I feel a deep kinship with the rotten tomato tossing Brits, I can only assume that living in England at age 5 and 6 messed up my chances at being a Real American. Because now, as you know, I really don’t like people hugging all over me and I have issues with wasting electricity that most people I know don’t seem to have.
In fact, if I’ve ever visited you at night I’ve very likely turned out some of your lights. No, I’m not kidding. I can’t stand to visit people and see lights on in all their rooms. No one is even in the room, and the light is blazing! It’s simply intolerable. Many times have I skulked around my friends’ houses and sneakily turned off their lights. Sometimes the owner of the house will walk in a room that I’ve darkened, give a puzzled, “huh?” and flip the light back on. Oh, how irritating. All my hard work, undone.
But, now that we have the car payment, the Boom Years are over and now I’ll be hassling everyone in my household about the lights. Even the cute little light in the living room.
Speaking of car payments, the new car arrived today. At 6:00, the dealer called Darling Husband’s cell phone and said, “The car is here and so are we, but only for a few more minutes. If you want it, you’ll have to get here fast.”
We tossed everything in the two trade-in cars into boxes, and headed up the road to Gettysburg.
When we got to the dealer’s, Darling Husband opened the passenger door to my car and said, “WHERE’S THAT BOX OF PAPERS??”
“You mean the box you put in here for me to dump the glove box into? That box? Yeah, I dumped the glove box into and put it on the porch at home.”
“That box had the titles and all the papers we need to buy the car!”
“You didn’t tell me that!”
“I know, I know. I’ll go in and see what they say…” droop, droop, droop. Poor Darling Husband. He really wanted his new car, but the dealership was closing in twenty minutes and I was worried that our old trade-ins wouldn’t make another round trip home and back without dying for good.
But the car people wanted our money badly enough that they said we could drop off the titles tomorrow.
Here’s a not-so-good picture of the new car in the driveway. Tomorrow I’ll be sure to get a lovely picture of the new car in the daylight. Darling Husband is using some lame picture of the car that he took with his iPad as his Facebook picture. That’s just embarrassing. I mean, here I am with Alex and all that practice taking pictures of hot-rod cars, and he posts an ugly iPad picture.
And someone needs to turn off that lightpost light! Ugh!