My grandfather once told me about a good old country song about a man and his mundane life called "Right or Left on Oak Street." The folksy lyrics tell of a man who on the way home from work everyday takes a right on Oak Street to get home. But then one day, when he just can't take life anymore, he decides to take a left instead. My grandfather said back in his day when someone they knew when off the deep end, his friends would jokingly say, "Well, you know Bob took a left on Oak Street today."
Well for the past few weeks we have been teasing Justin that he might be taking a left on Oak Street soon. It just seems like one thing after another keeps happening and I wonder: how much more can one person take? I mean the poor guy works more than anyone I know. And he tries so hard to still make time for us by coming home a dinner time for a few hours and them going back to work until 2 or 3 am. But on top of being completely worn out, he has an emotional wife, a 2 year old who needs one stable parent, and an unborn baby whose future is unknown. But then on top of that, last week our water heater burst and flooded our kitchen (we've been without hot water for a week), and last night as he was up in the attic trying to get ready to replace it, he literally fell through the ceiling into the living room.
Normally a 15 square foot hole in my painted ceiling and a huge pile of grey insulation spread across my otherwise spotless living room would send me into hysterics. Maybe I didn't freak out because I really do have to remain calm for the sake of my baby. Or maybe it's that compared to the severity of our current situation, nothing else really seems worth getting upset about anymore. But honestly I think I remained collected because as I looked at Justin covered in dust and insulation, I honestly wondered how close he was to running out in front of traffic.
Now don't get me wrong, I was definitely upset. As Justin and his friend tried to repair the gaping hole, I did go into my mom's room and cry for a good while . But as my mom and I lay in the dark, hot guest room (did I mention he ripped the AC duct out when he fell?), every once in a while one of us would burst out into hysterical laughter at the thought of Justin dangling through the ceiling. I mean, really, you can't make this stuff up.
Luckily, my husband has the best sense of humor of anyone I know and has been cracking jokes ever since it happened. If it wasn't for this uncanny ability to make light of any terrible situation (and the grace of God throughout this hard time), I really would worry he would be taking a left on Oak Street on the way home tonight.