Mailboxes, Garbage Cans and Mattresses

I find that I love to make people laugh. However, the only way I can make people laugh is by the things that my kids and occasionally myself, do. So this one is on me today. I have already shared this story with some, and I have to say, it was a big hit. So since I did something similar the other day, I thought I would put the stories in writing.

Let me start with the present. We were running extremely late the other morning trying to get to school. Our neighborhood has curves, brick mailboxes and the kids were trying to get my attention. Can you see where I'm going with this? I took a curve too close and WHAM, I hit something. It was garbage day so I assumed it was a someone's can. I look in my mirror and don't see anything. I pulled over and inspected the truck and everything seemed fine. I called my husband and told him to check behind me for run over garbage cans. He says he sees nothing and to drive more carefully. I sweetly retorted that I usually do. He then proceeds to remind me that this is not the first time that I have run over a garbage can. Which brings me to the second item in the title. (BTW, I did hit a mailbox with the mirror of the truck, but Stephen still doesn't know this! *wink, wink*

Last school year, I had picked the kids up from school and was already down the street before Quincy told me that his seat was folded down and he had nowhere to sit. I pulled over in a neighborhood that had a pool with a driveway and got out to fix his seat. Mind you, it was garbage day, and I had seen their garbage can with a long chain attached when I was pulling in from the street, but promptly forgot about it. I get back in the truck and take off pulling into the school zone traffic. I start hearing this really loud noise and said to myself that boy, there was a airplane flying real low. I pulled to a stop sign and the noise stopped. I pull out and the noise starts up again. Now, I used to be really smart before I had kids. Really, I was. Now, I'm a little on the slow side. I'm just starting to put two and two together when the policeman who is doing the school crossing that day starts waving me over. Keep in mind I am pregnant with my fourth child at this time and have a mush brain. I'm freaking out because I don't know why he is pulling me over! DUH!! He has this incredulous look on his face, reaches under my truck and pulls out the garbage can with a chain attached. "Ma'am", he says, "Do you know that you were dragging this under your truck?" "Well, officer, I was just starting to figure it out, when you scared me half to death, by making me pull over." I didn't really say this...out loud. Instead I say, as nonchalantly as possible, "What would you like me to do with it?" He is still just in disbelief and goes, "Well, do you know where you got it from?" Yeah, I have a pretty good idea. "I will put it in the back of your truck for you." "NO, I shout.' (See, I have a blown out brake light and I don't want him to see it) "Just put it here in the front seat with me." I nod convincingly. I take the can back to it's rightful neighborhood with just a little dent in the side. I had back onto the road and can you believe that the policeman flags me down again? You have a tail light out ma'am. Insert gasp and racing heart here. "Just get it taken care of please.", he says before I can decide whether to lie or not. "Yes sir. No problem sir. Have a good day sir." I call my dad in tears and tell him what happens. What does he do? He reminds of the story of the third item in my title. The Mattress.

Back track with me , if you will, to when I was eighteen. It was the first day of my new job at the nursing home. I had to be there at seven and because the scrubs they had given me were to big I had to leave earlier, so it was fairly dark when I was driving to work. I was taking a back road that is full of houses that would make Jeff Foxworthy overflow with redneck stories and jokes. I'm almost to the end and I see a mattress in the middle of the road. I swerve, didn't hear or feel anything and thought that I was a pretty good driver for missing that mattress. I check my rear view mirror and there was nothing there. Now, this did puzzle me for a minute because I had heard or felt anything, but I just assumed that I had knocked it in the ditch. I totally forget about that mattress and continue on my way. I pull onto Blanding Blvd. As I'm sitting at the light at the interstate which was about 2 miles from the mattress street, I see people staring and pointing at me. I get really offended and ignore them. I drive all the way to Kingsley which is probably another good 3-4 miles away from said mattress street. I turn onto Kingsley and notice a guy behind me waving his arms and telling me to pull over. I freak out and speed up. He follows me into the nursing home parking lot, (which is way back off the street behind a lot of trees.) and I'm truly panicked now. My heart is racing and I told myself to run as fast as I could into the building. He starts running after me yelling, "Ma'am, Ma'am, you have a mattress stuck under your truck and it's been sparking flames!" Oh my word, what did he say? I could've caught the truck on fire. I turn around and thank him politely, telling him that I will take care of it. So. I have to go into my new job and say, "Hi, I'm Erika, you're new employee. I'm sorry, the scrubs you gave me are to big. May I please have some smaller ones? Oh, by the way, I also have a mattress stuck under my truck. Is there someone who can help me?" I end this with the sweetest smile possible. To wrap this story up, the maintenance man had to come out, have me back off of the mattress , throw it into the back of the truck and have me drive over to the dumpster.

Hmm, I wonder if there is any special insurance I can get...