Saturday was a busy day.

It started early when my aunt called to tell me that her dog wasn’t well and needed to be put to sleep. I was sad to hear it, of course, but he’s very old and we’ve been expecting it for awhile. After discussing the possibility of burying him, she decided she’d have him cremated, I offered my condolences and hung up.

I apologised to Wyatt for waking him up and we lay there, just talking and thinking. I wasn’t sure if I had offered “enough” and I mentioned I couldn’t tell if she was okay or not. Wyatt was quiet for a minute and then softly said, “I can dig a hole pretty fast.”

So we called her back and offered our “services” in addition to our “sorry’s”and got out of bed and bundled up to go dig in the rain. (Luckily it wasn’t raining while we were actually digging.) And after saying goodbye, we headed back inside to get warm, and get ready for the wedding we were attending that afternoon.

At that time, my dad called and needed Wyatt to make a drive to bring him some fuel so he could keep combining. It was about a 45 minute round trip, but it gave me a head start getting ready, and since Wyatt doesn’t need as long anway, it worked out okay.

So we were on our way to the wedding, on track to get there about an hour early since I was reading at the ceremony and needed to get there ahead of time. We were driving on a part of the road where there was some construction, which was fine, but I started to hear a strange bumping sound coming from the front tire on my side.

I mentioned it, but we both decided it must be because of the rough road surface.

But…it wasn’t.

We had a flat tire. A very flat tire with a big hole in it.

Good grief.

So we pulled over in the first driveway we came to, and of course, there was a dog. A boxer. Not on a leash.

Just great…

But Wyatt, dressed all handsome in his new suit, got out and set to work getting the donut out of the trunk. The dog turned out to be friendly, just nosy, and wasn’t an issue, but I still had to occasionally shoo her away.

And I did have the foresight to make Wyatt put down an old jacket so he wouldn’t get as dirty.

And of course, it helped that Wyatt happens to be a master at changing tires, because in ten minutes we were on our way.

Our hands were dirty, his from doing the actual work, and mine from rolling the tires to and from the trunk and helping put the old tire back underneath everything in the trunk, so we used an all-purpose cleaning wipe for car surfaces. I’m pretty sure it isn’t safe for use on skin, but we managed.

We made it to the wedding with plenty of time, and it was beautiful of course, but before we could go enjoy the reception, we needed to go and get 4 new tires.

So we headed to Wal-mart, the only place we thought would be open, and it turned out that they would need 2 hours to get us in. So I called my mom and she came to pick us up so we wouldn’t be late to the party. (Wyatt’s dad had to run him back a couple of hours later to pick the car back up before they closed.)

And by the time we had partied all night and driven the thirty minutes back to his parents’ house, we were ready for bed.

Still, as I lay in bed that night, awake by myself since Wyatt had fallen asleep in about four seconds, I had to admit that I was proud of us. We had done a lot, and hadn’t complained at all. In fact, the whole “we’re going to be late, I can’t believe we had a flat tire” experience made me respect him even more. He didn’t cuss, scream, or even silently fume as he set to work. He just got to work and got it done.

But we were pretty tired on Sunday, and by the time we got home last night, Wyatt breathed a sigh of relief and said, “Honey, let’s never leave our apartment again.”

And while he had to go to work and I am about to head out for a run and then to the store, and I have a ton of laundry and cleaning to do since we were way too tired to clean anything last night, I plan on staying in tonight, and maybe every night this week. Which I think sounds great.