Last Friday I drove my friends, Ganelle and Ginger and their families, to the airport. No biggie, except that it was snowing that morning and it just so happened that the purpose of said trip was so my friends could start their journey to a week long cruise in the Caribbean (KU-RIBBY-UN? CARE-A-BEE-IN? I’m still not sure). Ganelle showed up in flip flops as the snowflakes fluttered outside and when I looked at her quizzically she yelled, “I REFUSE TO WEAR LOAFERS WHEN I AM GOING TO THE BEACH!!!” Whatever. I’m used to her yelling in all caps.
At any rate, it was a little annoying to wave them off at the prospect of sunny beaches and swaying palms when I had to turn around and head back into the fray of 30 degrees, but I handled it. As they got out and headed to the gate they both threw me their full sets of keys and said, “Thanks Vern! We promise to return with chocolate!” Their cars are now parked in my driveway serving as a daily reminder that their life is better than mine.
I was okay with that because the next few days proved sunny and spring-like. But then this morning I woke up to THIS:
So let's recap. I am HERE:
And Ganelle is here:
I'm not bitter, just emotionally challenged. Now, for those of you who are new to my blog you may not know about my history with Ganelle. It is somewhat extensive and doesn’t usually utilize adjectives such as “sweet” and “gentle”, but to Ganelle’s detriment she is incredibly loyal so she is still around. Nevertheless, we have played our share of jokes and pranks on each other. She puts my house up for sale when I’m out of town, I make her think her car’s been stolen and wait until she’s about to call 911 before pulling her keys out of my pocket – it’s a very healthy relationship. So after waking to the mass of snow I had to shovel this morning and having to look at Ganelle’s car parked safely near the curb as I imagined a tall, dark and handsome cabana boy delivering her diet Coke poolside, I remembered something. I have all of her keys. I HAVE ALL OF HER KEYS! This is like putting a stripper in front of Tiger Woods and saying, “Don’t Touch.”
She’s overseas. She’s not checking my blog. I have all of her keys and her car is parked in my driveway. But I’m torn. Should I use this opportunity to prove just how behaved I can be and how much she can really trust me by doing nothing? Or do I make the most of this chance and pull a doozie on her? And if so, how do you define “doozie”? Because I have to say, I’ve used up all my good ideas.