Another Series of Unfortunate Events

When I wrote that story about the humping turtles, I had two other stories in mind that were embarrassing experiences like that. This one features Paul heavily, and in not such a good light. I was reminding him of this story and he said, "You need to blog about this!" (pause) "Without making me sound dumb." Well, that's gonna be hard, since that's basically the theme of this story. But it's ok, Paul - I loves ya, you dumbcrap, you. It's all in good fun. (I also want Jaime to tell her embarrassing scrotum story sometime. Please! I love that story.)


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When Paul and I were first married, we lived with his parents in Alpine. It wasn't so bad, except whenever I was doing aerobics downstairs in my workout clothes, his dad thought it would be a good time to come down and shoot the breeze. "I saw 3 deer this morning." REEAALLY??! That's fascinating. Can you maybe tell me when I'm fully dressed?? (Sorry, that was a creepy tangent.) Anyway, I was going to BYU and working as a secretary at the Electric Shop on campus. One of the electricians there was a really nice guy that also lived in Alpine. I had sort of made friends with his wife, because one time she wanted me to show her how the campus library system worked. One night I went to the library with her and showed her how to look up stuff, and she thanked me by taking me to dinner at Crown Burger and showing me how to do magic tricks. Yes, it was incredibly awkward. I guess she was a schoolteacher-by-day/magician-by-night, or something. (Another creepy tangent.) The point is, she was a little weird, but very nice. They were going out of town for the weekend and she kept insisting that Paul and I stay at their house while they were gone. She kept saying that she knew how hard it was to live with your parents while you're married, and it would be a fun little getaway for us. They had a guest bed in their basement all ready for us. I thought it was a little odd, but we decided it might be a kind of fun little adventure.

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So the day came. They gave us the keys and told us it was their only set, so please don't lose them. We waved goodbye and started our weekend adventure. I can't remember everything we did, but here are the things that stand out. At one point, Paul decided to pop some popcorn in their microwave. Now Paul is the type that doesn't really let pesky instructions get in the way of what he's doing. I think most people are familiar with the fact that it takes about 2 minutes, and you're supposed to listen carefully for the popping to slow down. Right? Well Paul's no wussy instruction follower. He just sticks the bag in, pushes a button, like 7, 8 - whatever, and leaves the room. Well that popcorn got popped. And then BURNT. And then SCORCHED beyond recognition. The whole kitchen was filled with smoke. It was so bad. After airing out the house for a few hours, I noticed that whenever we used the microwave, it reeked of smoke. I could not get the smell out. I scrubbed it, I microwaved lemons, I microwaved baking soda, I did everything I could think of to get that stench out. It never came out. It was horrible. By the way, after 12 years of marriage and countless bags of scorched popcorn, I think Paul finally believes me that popcorn only takes 2 minutes. TWO. HOW DAMN HARD IS IT TO PUSH TWO INSTEAD OF FIVE?? (An unnecessary tangent, sorry.) Anyway, their microwave was clearly ruined.

The next thing I remember is coming back to the house from church, and finding out that the house keys that were in Paul's pocket, were mysteriously no longer there. We went back to the church and looked everywhere, backtracked our every move, to no avail. CRAP. What should we do? Paul decided that the best thing to do would be to ask one of the neighbors - who had absolutely no idea who we were - if we could borrow a ladder so we could climb into the kitchen window. The neighbor lent us the ladder, and sure enough, Paul climbed up to the window and got in. Thanks neighbor! I have no idea why he didn't call the cops. Then, since we didn't have any house keys, we just left their house unlocked whenever we left. You can't pay for housesitters like us!


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The time came when they finally arrived home. I have this problem where I get so extremely mortified and embarrassed, that instead of owning up to something and trying to fix the problem, I stick my head in the sand and pretend it didn't happen. Like the time when I was babysitting and the little kid got a black eye. I was a very responsible babysitter, and I really loved the kids I babysat. But there was one family that I just didn't like their kids, for some reason. They were bratty. Anyway, while I was tending them, I found a fun piano book to play while they were climbing on top of the car in front of the house. Hmm - I can see them out the window, they'll be fine. Now back to 100 Greatest Pop Hits. Then the 3-year-old fell off the car and blackened his eye. I freaked out and had my mom come over and we iced his eye and cleaned him up. Then she left and I put them to bed. I felt really horrible about it, but when the parents came home and asked, "How did everything go?" I said, "Great!" The next morning my mom got a sweet phone call from boy's mom wondering why the crap he had a BLACK EYE. I'm pretty sure that was the last time I tended for them. (Sorry, lengthy tangent.)

Anyway, they came home. Thinking back, I have no idea why we didn't replace their microwave, and pay a locksmith to make new keys. That would have been the decent thing to do. Instead, I baked a cheesecake for them and said nothing. I was too embarrassed to tell them. Paul kept hemming and hawing when they asked for their keys....uhh, I think they're in my car. To top it all off, they had their baby up on the counter and we were all smiling at him and talking to him. Keep in mind, this is a baby that's taken years to conceive - their miracle baby. His ears stuck out a lot and he was a little funny looking, but of course a normal person still oohs and aahs about how cute he is. Except for Paul. For some unexplainable reason, he smiled at him, looked into his eyes and said loudly, "Ya little idiot!" The parents looked bewildered and hurt, but didn't say anything. I was probably bright-red and once again, mortified, and said nothing so as not to draw attention to it. When I reminded Paul of this recently, he is also mystified why he would say that. Now that he has kids, he's a little bit more sensitive in his comments, I guess. Speaking of good Paul comments, remember when he was bearing his testimony after the twins were born, and said, "Sorry our house smells like feces" and I immediately walked out and went home? That was a good one.

Anyway, I think this lady called me the next day and asked what the heck we did to her microwave, and told me her neighbor filled them in on the ladder/kitchen window incident and I finally admitted to losing the keys. I've blocked out most of that conversation because it was so painfully embarrassing for me. I'm pretty sure we weren't friends with them after that. Now you know who to call for all your housesitting needs.