“Oh sh…shoot. D…Darn it all to h…heck.” My sixteen year old son Alex stood on the driveway, smirking behind his hand. I didn’t want to curse in front of him – not sure why, it’s not like he doesn’t know the words – but I stuttered out acceptable substitutes anyway.
“Did you hit the garage wall, Mom?” he asked, his face now properly schooled into a mask of concern. “Are you OK?”
I had been trying to back my van out of the garage while cleverly managing to avoid hitting Alex’s car, which was parked behind mine. Unfortunately, I turned the wheel too sharply, and hit the garage wall.
“Yes, I hit the f…freaking garage wall. Yes, I’m f…freaking OK.”
I got out of my red mini-van and looked at the thick white streak that the drywall had left on the front left panel. “Sh…shoot.” I hoped that maybe it would simply wipe off, but that was not the case. It was going to take some work and some touch-up paint to fix the d…darn van.
Alex backed his car further down the drive, and I pulled out of the garage. Alex had walked around me and was looking at the garage wall. I sighed as I got out of the van and joined him in the garage.
“Oh my g…gosh! Tell me you can’t see the kitchen through that f…freaking hole in the wall! Son of a…gun!”
Alex said…nothing. He just went into the house. He made it most of the way to the stairs before he started to laugh.
I could hear him, d…darn it, through the f…freaking hole in the wall.
Shaking my head, I walked into the kitchen and slammed the door behind me. Dry wall dust fluttered out from the hole in the kitchen and made swirling patterns in the air. Nice.
I’m really too d…darn stressed to deal with this now. Right now, I’m going to hide in the bathtub until the water gets cold and the candles burn out. I’ll handle it tomorrow, or maybe the day after that. Do you suppose if I wait long enough, my husband will fix it? Now that’s a thought worthy of a tiny smile. I feel better already.