File Under “M” for Moron

I’m intimidated by my father-in-law. "Why?" you ask.

Of course, there is the fact that I am responsible for his daughter’s well-being, so anything I do wrong feels like it is magnified ten times.

But I bring this up for another reason:

The reason I am intimidated is because he is always right. And as sure as I don’t follow his advice, something comes along to make me feel foolish.

Confused? Let me enlighten you.

Back in March, my car broke down. Kaput. Julie and I were in no position to buy a car and it would be a little hard for us to share a car living in two different cities. So my in-laws came to my rescue. They got a car to get me through the rest of school. And the timing was great because it was just a couple of weeks before my mother-in-law’s Spring Break, so they were able to bring the new car to me.

Now you have to understand, my father-in-law has some obsessive compulsive tendencies. When he arrives with the car, he has a whole list of things for me to do to the car. Then he pulls a small envelope out of his pocket. The envelope is full of keys. When my father in law gets a key copied, he can’t get just one. It has to be a multiple of at least three. Then he distributes keys to everyone and their mother. The keys in this envelope were for this purpose. One set of keys was for Julie and of course, a set for me. My father-in-law then suggests I get one of those magnetic key boxes and put it somewhere underneath the body of the car. Me? I think it’s not necessary…either the box will fall off and become pointless, or someone will find them and steal the car. So I choose not to put the keys in a box under the car. Guess what happens next?

Friday, after I spent most of the day studying and I can’t take anymore, I leave the library and decide to stop by the grocery store on the way home. I hadn’t prepared my grocery list, so I parked and rolled the windows down to look at my coupons and make a list. When I was done, I turned the key over and rolled the windows up. I go inside, do my shopping and am walking out with the bag boy and go to pull my keys out of my pocket and they aren’t there. I get a sick feeling in my stomach as I run through what I did before I got out of the car. I walk up to the car and sure enough, there they hang in the ignition. Here I am, grocery cart full of milk, cheese, TV dinners, etc., and I can’t get in my car to go home. It’s not like I can call Julie and tell her to come over with the spare.

I called a locksmith and the operator tells me it will be about 15 minutes. So I kick back and wait for him to show up. Meanwhile, I realize that the key is still turned over so I look in the car, and sure enough, the dashboard lights are on, mocking me. The guy parked next to me comes out, sees me standing there, looks in the car and says “that sucks!” Understatement of the year. One other kind gentleman asked if he could help, but no, I’ve got a locksmith on the way. As I wait, it is getting darker. It was a pleasant evening and I enjoy that time as the sun goes down on a pleasant evening, but these weren’t the ideal circumstances to enjoy this evening. After an hour, I call the locksmith and there is no answer. My gut tells me no one is on the way. So I call Triple A, and a guy shows up less than ten minutes later. He pops the door open with a tool and I’m in my car on my way home tired and hungry. (The tool was pretty nifty...it was not your regular slim jim. It was a long piece of metal with several curves. He slides it down into the passenger door and before I know it, it is inside the car, through the door handle, he gives it a flick and flips the unlock button. Pretty cool!)

All in all, not a pleasant evening. But I guess it could have been worse. I just hope this is not an indication of how the rest of the summer is going to go.

By the way, don’t tell my father-in-law about this.