Sometimes I wish I was one of those kinds of wives. You know the type. The ones that expect their husbands to take care of everything.
I was huddled in my car at 8:30 tonight, ready to drive home from teaching. The snow was falling heavily, and my windshield wipers scraped at the ice beneath trying to clear the glass.
I called home to see if anyone needed anything.
Spencer, home for spring break, planned to take the car after I got home.
I had been debating whether I needed to stop and get gas. I could brave the snow and get gas on the way home while the temperature hovered around 30 degrees, or I could wait for the next day when the snow would have stopped but the temperature would plummet.
If Spencer was taking the car, I'd need to stop and get gas. He's a poor college student so has no money to fill up the car.
Earl offered, "You could come home and I'll go out and get gas."
But I couldn't. I'm not that kind of wife -- the kind who would go home where it's warm while her husband ventured out in the snow for no reason. I was out already; a little snow and cold wouldn't kill me while I filled the car with gas.
And so, I did.
But Earl told me, "You can be that kind of wife if you want to."
I'll keep that promise in mind, just in case I ever need it.
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