Locked out.

Unfortunately I am notorious for locking my keys in the car. Sometimes I am lucky enough to lock my keys in the car with the engine still running, so not only do I have to beg, borrow and plead for someone to get me my spare, I also get to waste precious gas on a locked, parked car.

 

The other week I got to work, and was flustered and running late as per usual. As I rush to get out of my car, I drop my keys in the driver’s seat, hit the lock button on the door and slam the door. Mid-slam I realize my keys are going to  be locked safely inside the car. This would not be so annoying or embarressing if I only did it once or twice. But I espcially prone to this type of forgetfullness. And after a while, Clinton becomes annoyed.

 

To make matters worse this time, Clinton and I had a disagreement the evening before. So now in order to get into my car, I had to apoligize for my role in the disagreement. No sooner did I finish my apoligizing, then one of my coworkers offered to let me use their AAA card. I had apoligized all for nothing. I try to never admit fault in an argument with Clinton because what you say, can and will be used against you. “Samantha you admitted I was right and you were wrong. So that means I am right about everything.” This seems to be Clinton’s train of thought. He thinks that just because he is right once, he will be right all the time.

 

What he doesn’t realize is the few times he is actually right about something, it is because I let him be right so I don’t have to listen to him pout. The male ego is a funny thing. They spend hours propping it up, but a ten second conversation will instantely deflate the precious ego. And nothing is more pitiful then a man stroking his wounded ego. Someone once made a comment about him looking slightly pregnant, and even though he is now in fantastic shape, he will still stand in front of a mirror and critique his appearance. The sad thing is that he does this several times a day for extened periods of time.

While this is cute at first, over time it become annoying. I will call his name over and over again, only to realize he has zoned out in front of the mirror again. When did boys get so vain? 

My vain little boy.