Now Bob and I have always argued back and forth, sometimes he says I am contrary and if he said white I'd say black, if he said good, I'd say bad...I own that I am some contrary, but I'm not alone...and this was back in the day when we argued a lot.
Our old house was falling down, well, the floor in the kitchen had a large hole in it that we covered with a piece of plywood, there were 2-3 windows that had been broken out and we had covered with plastic, we had metal cabinets that were getting rusty around the edges, many little things that was making living there unpleasant.
Did we think about fixing them. Yes, we did, but we were poor, too poor to start to remodel half a house that was built in the 1930s and hadn't been maintained in 20 years. It was just falling down, no doubt about it.
My mom and dad had lived on the same road, same farm as we did for several years. After Mom passed away, Dad remarried and moved to his new wife's house. Lynn and her husband lived there for about a year, then they split up and divorced and Lynn met Kelly and married him and moved to Branson.
Well....Dad had remodelled every house he ever lived in, so their house was in pretty good shape. So, we decided to move into that house.
We moved and moved, and I moved a LOT of stuff while Bob was working, so only the big stuff I couldn't handle by myself was left. One thing was the refrigerator. Bob backed our pickup up to the porch. We started to move it and we pushed it through the kitchen door into the living room, no problem. A little bit of shouting and muttering, but we got it through the door and to the front door. Now one thing to understand about Bob and me. We are the tortoise and the hare. Bob is the hare. Bob likes to do everything he does really fast. No thinking about it, or maybe he thinks fast. Me, I'm the tortoise, the slow one. I think fast, but I like to think a lot before I make a move. Like before we moved a refrigerator.
Bob got in front and was pulling the refrigerator out the front door, going backwards, which he hates, and I was pushing from behind the refrigerator, but trying to be careful about not scraping the sides of the door. No careful with Bob, just all out wrassling that fridge out the door. I started hollering slow down a little. Bob said we had to get it right on out and pulled a little harder. I got my hand between the fridge and the door and you can guess what happened. The old door had splinters and nails here and there, and I raked right across one with the back of my hand. Just a scratch really, but it started bleeding.
Did Bob stop and ask if I was okay? No. Did he let me stop and put a bandaid on it? No. Did he even care? Nooooo, we had to get that fridge in the back of the truck. We finally got it situated and was ready to take it a quarter of a mile up the road to the other house.
I wanted to stand in the back to keep the fridge steady but Bob said no, I wasn't stout enough to keep it from falling out if it started, he would stand in the back and I could drive.
So I got in the pickup and started up the road. Our road is a quarter mile from our house to the house which sat by the highway, and has two 90 degree turns on it. I went slow, so nothing would fall out and Bob could hold on better, but I could hear him hollering to speed up...you know...Bob...faster...
So I sped up a little bit, went around the first curve and started towards the next curve. Bob hollers again to speed up, and so the mean part of me took over and I sped up, I sped up a lot, and took that next 90 degree curve pretty fast. I was trying to throw him out of the back!
You know what Bob was doing when I got to the other house? Laughing at me because I tried to throw him out, LAUGHING!
Well, looking back it was pretty funny although it took me a couple hours to get in a good mood that day!
By the way, I still have a scar on the back of my hand from that scratch, and I show it to him every once in a while and remind him of that day, and we laugh.
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