“Honey, do you want to go for a walk over to our new house?”
I knew something was up from the very moment my husband posed this question to me the other day, but I went along with it because I was curious.
You see…Getting my husband to agree to walk the dogs with me is about as difficult as getting my husband to throw an empty milk carton into the trash…It’s damn near impossible!
“Really?” I responded. “You want to take a walk with the dogs and me?”
He smiled wryly. “Sure…It’s a nice day. Why don’t you put the leashes on the dogs and meet me out front?”
“OK,” I said hesitantly. My husband went outside as I pulled on my boots and leashed up the pups.
This can’t be good. I thought to myself as I turned the knob to open the front door. I took a deep breath and stepped outside.
“Hi hon!” My husband said cheerily from the top of the driveway.
I opened my mouth to speak, but the ruckus that came from behind my husband was so loud that it drowned out my expletives. I blinked and stared for a second, then blinked again, watching my husband trail a massive black blob on wheels all the way down our driveway.
“Ready?!” He asked when he reached the curb.
I looked to the heavens and silently asked ‘Why me?” before opening my mouth to respond to him:
“Hon…Why are we walking the grill?” I asked, as if walking a grill is something that people do every day.
I’m sure my husband rattled off some random reason about the grill being too dirty to go in our car, and how it was only a mile walk to our new place…But I couldn’t hear him over the loud rattling that came up from the wheels of the grill each time it hit a small imperfection on the street pavement.
So I did what any gal in my position could do…I proceeded to follow my husband for the mile-long trek to our new house, with two dogs and a grill in tow, trying desperately to bury my face in my hood while ignoring the beeping cars and blocking out inappropriate comments people were yelling as we marched on down the road.