An unfiltered fire hose of flaming condemnation

My Husband, The Bank Robber

Although Jon has already written something about his recent run-in with the law, I believe the whole incident deserves mention here if only because the whole thing was my fault.

It’s my fault that 10 minutes after he left for work last Tuesday morning he had to turn around and drive back home to take me to the doctor. It’s my fault that he had to leave the truck with the car seat at home with me and the baby so that I could drive to the pharmacy and pick up my prescription. It’s my fault that he had to drive the Honda Civic back to work; my fault that the Honda Civic has tags that are almost six months expired; my fault that I have no idea where its current registration papers are; my fault that there isn’t a proof of insurance anywhere in the car; my fault that the Honda Civic still has MY EX-BOYFRIEND’S NAME on the title.

Gulp.

It’s also my fault that Jon was wearing the Old Navy Performance Fleece Cap that I gave him for Christmas, the cap that caused the unmarked police car to pull him over in the first place, the cap that is obviously the choice of head wear for bank robbers in the area.

Can you imagine what the law enforcement official was thinking when he approached the Civic and found Jon, on the brink of lunacy from sleep deprivation, dressed exactly like a bank robber and totally unable to prove that he has ANY BUSINESS WHATSOEVER being in that Honda Civic?

Could there be a more unbelievable, ridiculous story than what he told the official, that no, he didn’t know where the registration to the car was, that no, he didn’t know where the proof of insurance was either. That the reason he was driving the car was because his wife who gave birth to his first child three weeks ago woke up that morning with her second bladder infection in two weeks — second! can you believe that? — and he had to take her to the doctor for a urine test, and the doctor had to wait for the lab results before he would call in a prescription and that was going to take over an hour and he didn’t have an hour because he had to get back to work. So he dropped his bladder-infected wife and newborn baby back home and decided that he would risk taking the tags-expired Honda Civic to work, the Honda Civic whose title is still under the name of the worthless piece of crap his wife lived with for two years, and that he would leave the SUV at home for his wife so that she could pick up the prescription herself, something she couldn’t do in the Honda Civic because the car seat for the newborn baby only fits in the SUV.

Oh, and the Old Navy Performance Fleece Cap? Yeah, his wife got him that for Christmas only because she couldn’t afford something more stylish and less bank-robberish due to all the money they’d spent remodeling their kitchen a month ago when his wife was eight months pregnant. And they would have registered the Honda Civic earlier, but with all the remodeling of the kitchen and preparation for the baby, they just couldn’t get around to spending eight hours standing in line at a government-run institution.

Did he mention that one of his wife’s most annoying shortcomings is her inability to deal with administrative duties that have anything to do with the government? That she still hasn’t changed her name on her driver’s license from her maiden name to her married name because that would involve dealing with federal employees, cinderblock walls, and the filthy, sticky, unwashed public of Utah?

Did he mention that even though his wife was valedictorian of her high school and graduated college with a 3.9 GPA that she failed the California written driver’s test FOUR TIMES? That she’s afraid of facing that type of failure in Utah, and right now, now as she’s experiencing her second bladder infection in two weeks, now as the newborn baby refuses to sleep longer than two hours at a time, she might possibly collapse at the thought of having to drive to the DMV to register the car that is still under the name of the dirtbag whose student loans she paid for over two years? Did he mention this?

He must have mentioned something because the law enforcement official LET HIM GO, with only a stern warning to get the car registered. I can’t decide whether or not Jon is just really, really lucky that he wasn’t arrested, or if the police force in Utah is made up of the most gullible people on the planet. I mean, who gets two bladder infections in two weeks? And who in their right mind would pay a boyfriend’s student loans? That’s ridiculous!

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Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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