It's a Home Run!

After dinner, I sat on the couch reading a book. Ordinarily I'd be cleaning up, making sure everyone's homework was completed and in their backpacks, ready to go, but I only had a few pages left in this book and I wanted to finish it. I had literally just read these lines . . .

. . . when I heard a loud shot followed by the tinkling sound of glass breaking. Oh my gosh, someone's breaking into my house! Where's my gun? Oh, that's right, I don't have a gun. It's a good thing I don't. Who knows what would happen if a gun were in my house! What can I use? A Taser? Pepper spray? A baseball bat? Hairspray? A pointy shoe? Sort of sharp nails in need of a manicure? On second thought, I think I'll run out the back door while shouting, "Every man for himself!" 

Once I regained my common sense (you know, I put down my book and rejoined reality), I realized that if I was hearing breaking glass, my kids had to be nearby. I jumped up to check it out.

This is what I found . . .

And outside stood Clay with the smoking gun, er baseball bat. "Nice hit. Did you get a home run at least?"

His face was a combination of sheepishness and incredulity. He dropped the bat, ran inside, and disappeared. I let him go because I thought it would probably be frowned upon if I threw him through the window after the softball. Instead, I went inside and grabbed the essentials: the vacuum, my phone, and my camera. I took pictures, texted my friend Cheri - Do you know anyone who can replace glass?, and plugged in the vacuum while Savannah picked up the big chunks of glass. Then I made a few calls and found someone to come out and replace the glass tonight.

When the guy showed up, I opened the door and stood there staring at him. I may have involuntarily drooled a little. At some point, I must have let him in, but I don't remember doing this. I stood around, watching him fix the window because well, he was damn cute. I made brilliant small talk. "The sad thing is that this isn't the first time. With 6 kids, I can't even count how many broken windows there have been over the years."

He gave me the standard horrified look that folks give me once I tell them I have 6 kids. Oh yeah, he's gotta be into me. I mean, what's not to love? I'm old, I'm fat, I have like 3 teeth left, my hair was unwashed, my makeup had melted off my face earlier in the rain and humidity, and I had 6 kids running around the house like rabid wolves. Yep.

After he fixed the window, he went out to his truck, returning with my bill. "So, 6 kids, huh? That's like the Brady Bunch," he said.

"Yeah, heh heh," I laughed nervously. "Like the Brady Bunch, but without Alice or um . . ." I tried to think of the dad's name. You know, to make sure he realized I wasn't attached to anyone. But I couldn't think of the name Mike to save my life so I just repeated myself. "Um yeah, without Alice."

He looked at me like I had a learning disability and said, "Yeah, Alice did a lot, didn't she?" 

I made some incoherent mumbling sounds and hoped he'd leave before I opened my mouth to say any more stupid things.

Of course, after he left, I contemplated throwing another ball through the window to get him back here to ask him if he did other handyman type stuff because I have a fixit list a mile long and well, he's damn cute. But with my luck, they wouldn't have dispatched the same guy. They would've sent out Bubba with the plumber's crack, the camo hat, and less teeth than I have.

On the bright side, my window is fixed, my tax refund is spent, I didn't have snow coming through the hole while I waited for it to be repaired, Clay apologized and I hugged him because I know he didn't do it on purpose, and I got to practice being stupid in front of other humans. All in all, it was a good night.

If you're in central Florida and need your home or auto glass repair, these guys were friendly and quick and well, damn cute.