Jimmy and I get along famously. We’ve never been The Bickerson’s in front of anyone else, or been cranky and irritable with one another. Or just flat out mad. No way.

And if you believe that, you clearly don’t know either of us very well. Sometimes when we’re trying to communicate, we collide. Or flat out just miss each other entirely!

One recent Sunday, Jimmy asked me, “Would you have time to pick out plants for the new duplex tomorrow?” Happy to help, I agreed I would go pick out the plants. After all, I was experienced at this. I had done it numerous times before. A 20-minute trip to the duplex told me all I needed to know. We agreed on the layout for the landscaping, I already knew which plants I was going to buy. Piece of cake. It should be quick and easy.

Should.

Midday on Monday, my phone rings. “Have you picked out the plants  yet?”

“No, I was just going to do that now,” I responded, feeling slightly guilty because I was at Wal-Mart.

“Well, are the guys still there? This wasn’t an all day project, you know.” (This should have been the first Red Flag that there was a breakdown in communication somewhere. But no, I didn’t get it. Remember, I’ve done this before, multiple times. We had a formula for success. I was following the formula.)

“No, was I supposed to?” I responded.

“Well, I’m not there. I just thought you’d check in with them before you went. They might already be done by now!”

Red Flag. I sense urgency. “Okay, I’ll go do it right now. Am I supposed to go ahead and BUY the plants?” (Remember, he said PICK OUT the plants. He says yes.) “Okay, I’ll go buy them and take them straight down there.” A trip to Home Depot, plants delivered, crisis averted. I pick up the phone.

“I dropped off the plants, the guys were still there, and I told them where to plant them. They are working on it now.”

“Good. Did you pick up fabric and edging? And whatever you want to use as mulch?”

I sighed. But only inside. “No, I didn’t know I was supposed to. You just told me to PICK OUT the plants. You didn’t tell me anything else.” At this point, we digressed slightly into the ‘who said what’ discussion, but fortunately Jimmy has gained wisdom with his years and opted to take the safest route and end the conversation.

Two more trips to Home Depot, one of them my own fault, would be made that day before I was done. And I was crabby. And irritable. Because I hadn’t planned for this. This was  not my emergency! I stewed. I stewed at least for a good 30 minutes after I got home from the last Home Depot run. It didn’t matter that the last run had been my fault. It was still HIS fault in my righteous mind.

And then I thought about it. I could continue to be mad and carry a grudge, but all I would be is mad. It wouldn’t change anything. And what I didn’t get done that day wasn’t rocket science or lifesaving or even really mattered when it came to the big scheme of things. I just did it another day. And Jimmy drove by the duplex that night and told me that yard looked good, which was all that really mattered anyway. Life is good.  🙂