A few weeks ago, the hubs and I went to Missouri on what the company calls a “predetermination trip”, which basically means that we went to the area and checked it out before the hubs accepted the position. We were in the Cape Girardeau/Jackson area and absolutely fell in love. Never have I seen a more family friendly area ~ parks, shopping, restaurants (if you ever get around those parts, go to The Branding Iron ~ the ribs will make you slap your momma, they’re so good), etc. But I digress…
While we were there, the hubs and I decided to do a little bit of house hunting, you know, get a rough idea of what we can get for our money, determine the area(s) we’d like to live in, the school district we’d like the kids to attend and all the other things responsible adults/parents do. Or at least those are things I was considering when I was thinking about houses. The hubs had a whole different set of priorities. Namely, his car.
The hubs has a race car that we call “Christine”. Yep, after the infamous Stephen King car of the same name, someday I’ll tell you how she came by that moniker (and, yes, I’m convinced the car is a girl). Christine is a beautiful car. I mean, the family loves having her around because we have no choice she fits in so well with the rest of us ~ demanding, attention loving, a tad bit spoiled. Her attitude is the result of the hubs incessant need to cater to her every whim ~ oil changes, tire rotations, frequent washings and all the other things that keeps a girl car happy.
So back to the house hunting…
I’m looking at the bedroom sizes, judging whether or not my furniture could fit and if the kids would have room to stretch out. Meanwhile, the hubs was totally focused on the size of the garage. This man nixed houses because there wasn’t enough room for Christine to nestle comfortably. Actually, his exact words were “If there’s only a two bay garage, your car goes outside so that Christine and the truck can sit side by side.” Ummmm, what? Part of me thinks he’s kidding.
