The Moral of the Story From the Parking Lot at Target
So we were at Target to look for a gift for an upcoming bridal shower, and once we had made our selection, we headed to the front to check out. It was a Saturday evening and there were lines at every register. So my husband, Charlie, pipes up and says, “I’ll go get the car and bring it around.” This is his way of not having to stand in line…he does it all the time. But he doesn’t SAY that…no...rather, he packages it like he is doing something for me, to make things easier for me.
Well, the car was about 50 steps from the front door (as per usual), so he certainly was not rescuing me from a long hike out to the far end of the parking lot. But this time, his little charade caught up with him, and I came out of the store just in time to see the whole thing unfold.
The car was about four rows deep, and I saw him doing something – I could not tell what – to the driver’s side door. I stood back for a moment to see what would happen, because he had been out there plenty long enough to have gotten the car and pulled up to the curb. But he had not done that…he seemed to be having trouble getting in the car. As soon as I realized this, it also occurred to me that I didn’t remember parking there…I thought we parked on the next aisle a few rows deeper. I scanned the area, and sure enough…there was our car. He was trying to get in the WRONG car! HAHAHAAA!!!
I started walking briskly toward where he was, when I noticed both him and the car rocking up and down! He was trying to manhandle the Corolla! I shouted out to him, “Stop! Charlie! Hold on!”... but he kept on rocking the car. I suddenly became mortified and hurried to within close range and “whisper-shouted,” “STOP IT, you idiot! That’s NOT our car!!!”
He looked up from his obsession and said, “This is our car, Sheila!”
Not only did I feel the need to laugh (he NEVER knows where we're parked…it’s like asking a baboon to go fetch the car…HAHA), but I felt an even stronger need to pee, AND I was so embarrassed I could have crawled under the car. And while I don’t even think anyone actually noticed what was happening, I was embarrassed nonetheless.
I grabbed his jacket, “CHARLIE! IT’S THE WRONG FREAKING CAR!!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND? YOU ARE BREAKING IN TO SOMEONE ELSES’ CAR!!!”
This broke the spell, and he slowly looked through the glass to the back window, and it wasn't there…the sticker, that is...of a dragonfly that I have told him a thousand times to look for to know it’s our car. He dropped his head as if to say, “Seriously???” Then, in solemn resignation to his stubbornness, he asked, “Well where is it then?”
Once we got in OUR car and had left the Target parking lot, I LMAO!!! It was SO funny to watch him refuse to give up at something which was obviously never going to work out! After a few minutes of me horse laughing at the poor guy, he got mad at me…which made it even funnier.
Moral of the story: If you are having to rock your car up and down in order to get the door open (when it ordinarily opens with ease), you might be at the wrong car.
Plan of action if this happens to you: Cease and desist the rocking, and move back to the sidewalk and stand still until your wife arrives to escort both of you safely and legally to your car. Do NOT, I repeat, do NOT try to think at this point; just move back to the sidewalk and stand still.
(I love you, Charlie!) ; )
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