Rule of 3 on #8.

On Tuesday we celebrated eight years of fabulously wedded bliss. (Thanks, God--we love You!) We also proved, once again, our Rule of Three. Remember this post back in January? It was all about how the things that test & try us seem to happen in threes. Yep...it still holds true.

Just after midnight on April 8 Scotty had an insuppressible urge to make a Walmart run...I begged him not to go. Actually, I used my shrill voice (the one he hates!) and pleaded with him to stay home. Since we are both completely stubborn, he, of course, ignored me and was all, "Peace out--see you later." Meanwhile I was all, "Whatever--you'll be seeing me fast asleep 'cause I ain't waitin' up on your butt." Oh, and happy anniversary--we are sooooooooooooo in love.

I have no idea what time he returned from his discount shopping jaunt, but I do know that he woke me with this startling bit of information: "Honey, I hit a deer." LET THE RECORD SHOW (as Claire Huxtable always said), I FIRST asked my sweet husband if he was all right...didn't even inquire about the car. And let the record show he would have done the opposite if these roles were reversed...because he has a severe case of OCD. Again...we are sooooooooooooo in love. And I digress.

Here's the car, deer hair and all:


For those who are keeping score (me), it's now Number of deer hit by Scott: 2. Number hit by Leigh Anne: 0. This will most likely come back to haunt me, yet I'm still putting it out here. Technically, he's never hit deer--they run into him. I think they must like his delicious-smelling self...because he is a finely scented man, I gotta tell ya. Love you, honey!

Later on that day our landscapers came to put out some fresh mulch and replant a few trees that we lost in the Easter snow we received last year. Around 10:30 the foreman comes to tell me, "Ma'am, I am really sorry--but we cut into your gas line. I can repair it, but I just wanted you to know." OK, first of all..."Ma'am?" I'm 33!!! I appreciate manners, especially from my girls and younger children, but this was coming from a guy who had to be 50-ish. And he was doing work for me, no less...I might as well just change my name to Scarlett and start ordering the servants around. Yeesh. Secondly, I started freaking...the gas line is cut? Does this mean a leak? Are we in danger? Will we have to stay at my in-laws' for the day? YIKES! He assured me it was not a big deal (to him, I guess, but it was to me) and it would be fixed by lunch. Ok, fine...thanks for letting me know, and ooohhh...do y'all have any Bradford Pears on your truck because I'd like a couple more. See how I got over it quickly?

THEN...and there's always a then when it comes to the Rule of Three...THEN he comes back to the door, this time with his little hat in hand. Again with the "Ma'am," too..."Ma'am...I don't know how to tell you this, but we seemed to have dug into your fiber optic cable." I mumbled something incoherent (that wasn't a cuss word, so points for me!) and ran to my laptop, where I discovered the complete lack of internet access. WHY, OH WHY do these things happen to me? It hit me then...the deer, the gas line, and now the computer cable...but of course! The Rule of Three! Happy Anniversary! I immediately phoned Scott to tell him we'd had another Rule of Three experience...and then I called my father-in-law, because nothing makes him happier than laughing at us & our misfortune. Or watching people falling on America's Funniest Home Videos. Again, I digress.

We did without the internet most of yesterday...and survived, I'm happy to report. And we had a very nice anniversary, which I'm not telling you about in detail! (Unless you are someone particular in Indiana, New York, Maine, or Honduras--and they know who they are, and what I'll tell!) Scott & I both laughed about the day because really...by that point laughing is all we could do. The car will be mended and cleaned of the deer fur and various goop, the gas line was fixed and the fiber optic cable was repaired this morning, so all's well that ends well. Is that what Shakespeare meant when he wrote that bit of famousness? I'm gonna steal a phrase from my friend Kelly, who recently wrote, "Rhymes with bucket." Mull over that one for a while, friends.