Being Too Dumb to Function in Arizona

K I wasn’t going to tell this story, because the wound is still fresh. But, asdlfksldghvlksrjgaslkdfj* FINE! I’ll make a post about this stupid, stupid mistake I made.

*asdlfksldghvlksrjgaslkdfj – (pronounced like slamming keys) exclamation, Keyboard Pound for I did not want to do the thing, but frustratingly so, I will do the thing. Ex. “I wasn’t going to comment on your outlandish political statement on Facebook, but asdlfksldghvlksrjgaslkdfj.”

Well, first off, pregnancy brain is strong with this one, okay. AND I WANT YOU TO KEEP THAT IN MIND… because I have no problem throwing my children under the bus in order to save face. No, listen, that’s not it. But if that’s not it, then it must be something because I feel like what I did could have been the punch line of a dumb-blonde joke.

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Obviously, Arizona is a third degree blister of burning heat. Like really. It reaches temperatures that are actual settings on ovens. So for the sake of our baby boys in the back seat we decided to have our Honda Civic windows tinted so that they, you know, could actually sit there.

It’s always a pain to get your cars worked on because you have to do the awkward second-car-shuffle. So my husband was driving Jack in the Honda and I took the Nissan. Ummmm K. I really hardly ever drive that car. It’s my husband’s commuter car and we always take the Honda for outings because it fits our car seat better. This might just be totally my anxiety but I feel like, driving a car you are not familiar with is trying to navigate a Chinese shuttle to the moon.

Well, whatever. So as I’m driving I immediately notice that something is wrong. The AC  is blowing hot air…

If you haven’t already read about our bad-luck-move-from-hell… this exact thing had happened to our other car on the way down. PLUS all the other mechanical issues we had already been through, not including trying to get tint on the windows.

And we’re driving to the whole other side of town. Well, maybe that SEEMS like not very far, but Mesa might as well be an effing East Coast state it’s so huge. It has 17 freeway exits alone. So here is the worst half an hour of my LIFE, sweat dripping into my eyes, cursing for … just being a human with functioning nerve endings. I’m five months pregnant, it’s over 110 degrees OUTSIDE of the car, okay. I’m rolling down the windows and sticking my head out like a Labrador.

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We get to the place and I immediately tell Dan, “THE AC IN THIS CAR WENT OUT TOO. ARIZONA HATES US.”

He leans in and points out that I had… in fact… never actually turned the air conditioning on.

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The Cat in the Window Well

K. This isn’t even a funny story. It’s just really stupid.

When I was a kid we lived in this Ivory Home development and we had some cuh-razy neighbors. I don’t remember everything that they did, but I do remember that before they got busted for dealing drugs, they adopted a tiny kitten. I really mean tiny. So tiny that it could fit through a single hole in the chain link fence. I know, because that’s what it did every day.

This kitten was cute but also kind of dumb. And I’m only saying that because it would fall into our window well pretty much biweekly. Once it was stuck there, it would scratch on the window and meow until we did something about it.

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Now the thing was at our house we were not permitted to go into any of the window wells since it was a Black Widow Metropolis. So we would have to get either Mom or Dad to climb in there and rescue it.  Sometimes the same second that we would dump it on the other side of the fence it would jump back through to our side. Maybe it was trying to make a better home for itself. I don’t know.

ANYWAYS. So one summer night, lil’ ol’ high school me was asleep in my bed, when suddenly I heard some distinct scratching from the outside of my window.

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Most people would think that it was a tree branch or something. On a good day, I would assume it’s the girl from The Ring. Whatever. But you know when you’re half awake and your dream brain kicks in with it’s thread-bare logic?

I sat up out of bed with a thought that I hadn’t had since I was nine… A cat fell in my window well. 

Now, at this point I could A) Open the blinds and see what is making the sound. B) Why the eff would a cat be in there? Just go back to sleep and forget about it. But no. I opted for C) wake up my mom to save the cat. For I cannot, for I am but a child.

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My poor mother gets out of bed, shuffles down into the basement and opens up my blinds (something that a sixteen-year-old should be capable of). Nothing is there. I point out the motion sensor light like a true Sherlock though. The cat MUST HAVE jumped back out. See sensor light? See logic and reason? See me so smart? Mom’s like whatevs and goes back to bed.

THE NEXT MORNING I’m carpooling to work with my best friend Greg and WHAM. It all comes back to me. And if you couldn’t tell from my needlessly long blog posts, I love a weird story. So I immediately tell him all about it. This cat fell into my window well last night and by the time my mom and I checked it out… it jumped back out. OoooOOoooooh.

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I tell freaking EVERYONE about this, okay. All my coworkers, my boss, random people I hardly knew. I even told the big HS crush, because of course I did. A cat scratching at my window, wow, wasn’t he impressed. And quite frankly my desperation with him alone has generated six or seven other embarrassing stories. (Gosh, at least.) But that’s another Thursday.

So anyway, a whole work day has gone by of me blabbering on about this. Greg and I are outside painting. For some reason, I’m still on it, like woah dat cat tho. Can you even believe a cat fell in my window well?

He replies with, “Yeah and that cat’s name is Greg and Kayla.”

Yep. So my two besties were scratching at my window and gave up when I refused to open the blinds … AND he let me tell everyone that it was a stupid cat. All day. In great detail.

I threw my paint at him. All the paint.