In the list of Things That Are A Very Bad Idea But I Can See We're Doing It Anyway, this is number 1.
Mr X came home from work and said 'We need to talk.'
I told the part of my brain that was screaming to run really fast to shut up. I hate it when he gets all serious like that because it usually means I'm going to have to do something I don't want to do. Like talk to his mother.
We sat down and he hemmed and hawed around what he wanted to say. The part of my brain that controls keeping my mouth shut must have been taking a nap.
"Can you just get to the point already you girl? I'm bored."
Did I ever tell you he has a great sense of humor? He does. Especially when he's about to ask me to do something he knows I'm not going to want to do.
He wants me to learn how to fire a gun.
Yeah. Take that in for a moment.
I can see his point. He leaves for work at the same time every morning. We live right next to this wooded area in a decent neighborhood, but decent neighborhoods can change from day to day.
He wants to get a gun to keep with him too since he works in a high crime area and is always the first one to work. His car has been broken into several times as has the shop.
So I get that.
But then there's the other side of my brain that keeps a running tally of all the stupid ways I hurt myself. The other side of my brain says "Self? Do you not remember the moles? The evil and so not cute like the one who is friends with Winnie-the-Pooh moles? Do you remember nearly taking yourself out with a shovel? Damn. How did I end up in the body of a moron?"
Aside from a paintball gun that my 10th grade boyfriend took from me after I accidentally shot him in the gut, and the time I took a shotgun away from a friend using it knock down a cereal box rather than using a stepstool like a normal person, and why do I know so many stupid people?, I have never held a gun, much less fired one.
And now Mr X is talking about taking me to the firing range (and I now realize that it has nothing to do with pottery) and which gun would work best in my little hands (I'm thinking a small green water gun would be the safest) and lock boxes.
And I'm wondering how long it will be before I mistake my foot for a bullseye. Oh please, you know you were thinking it too. I wonder what the Vegas odds on that would be?
Although, I guess shooting my foot off would be one way to end the issues I have with my lowest extremities. But it might make wearing shoes a bit difficult. And I really love shoes.