When Greg goes away overnight my usual, restful sleep is not only disrupted but in some cases non-existent.
I hear noises that don’t exist unless he’s out of town.
If a tree falls in the woods when Greg’s out of town, does anyone hear it? Answer: I do.
Random people drop in at strange times, the phone rings and someone hangs up, alarms go off, I win a disproportionate number of cruises.
I picture Greg sitting at the corner with a homemade remote control plotting to keep us on our toes so his housewarming cake will have an extra scoop of ice cream.
The other night, someone knocked, no, they pounded on the front door while I was reading the kids their bedtime stories. In other words, it was dark, I was in my footed pjs and cucumber mask not expecting company.
I ignored the door and by ignore, I mean I slunk to the floor Gumby-style, shushed the kids waving them away from doorways and windows, dimmed the lights and slowly, one rapid heartbeat at a time, I peeled back the blind to see who the uninvited guest was.
I didn’t get a clear shot (this would have to wait for video surveillance review) but the person hammered once more while at the same time pressing the doorbell.
I answered the intercom and heard, “Hey, it’s Jason from Teen Sobriety” or something like that.
“Did Greg put you up to this Jason?” “Is that him standing behind the mailboxes?”
Jason didn’t really explain what he was doing, just informed me of his name and club affiliation.
I asked Jason to please leave his literature in the mailbox for future review knowing I would never sleep again and when I walked outside to collect the pamphlet it would either say something about becoming a Jehovah’s Witness or a note made entirely of letters cut and pasted from magazines and newspapers.
Needless to say, I didn’t sleep that night. Did his name have to be Jason? Who was driving, Freddy?
The next morning, I drove the kids to school, returned home to plug in the kettle and heard a knock at the door, then the door bell.
“Hi, this is Jake the Electrical Inspector.”
Is this for real?
I did know that someone was coming to inspect the installation of our generator but I wasn’t told what day, week or month.
His shirt said something electric or it had a lightening bolt on it, it’s all a blur. In came Jake.
He told me he was here to look at the installation of the generator so I took him to the garage (filled with any number of sharp tools) and pointed out the generator. Behind him I was stretching and practicing UFC moves I have seen on tv.
He nodded from about 20 feet away and said nothing.
“So how does it look?”
“Fine I guess.”
Oh God, he is going to kill me.
Actually, he wasn’t working with Jason or Freddy nor did he have any plans to hurt me (at least not then) “I don’t need to see the generator, I need to see the electrical panel.”
Oh of course. Follow me.
I took Jake on a hilarious scavenger hunt around the house and we bonded. First to the pool pump—nope, that’s not an electrical box.
“Would you like to see the cabana?”
Jake was really just there to see the electrical box.
I showed him to the side of the house where people come to read the metre—wrong again.
“I’m just kidding Jake, come on in.”
I found the electrical box (in an undisclosed three-time’s-a-charm location) and he inspected the generator (from an entire floor away which is mind boggling to me).
I waved as he pulled out of the driveway and sent him to the mailboxes to hand Greg a coffee on his way past.