Money- in the not funny category

A trip back in time.

I'm thinking 1996 or 1997.

Springtime, in fact April 1st or thereabouts, some 13 years before my diagnosis, when my kids were kids and my hair had yet to turn gray. The days when pranksters ran amok and practical jokers were in their own heyday- at least this held true in MY family, for sure.

Amy was always more creative than anyone when it came to April Fools folly. I generally forgot about April 1 until it was too late to plan anything elaborate, this year being no exception, but I did manage an ill advised concoction that backfired in my face- big time. My disadvantage was multi fold. I chose a poor subject, I used poor timing, I had no support and I'm an idiot with absolutely no good judgment at all.

At the time, I was finishing up building a house north of town. Briefly: My contract was for around $400,000 and I had prepared a payout for the homeowner that would exhaust the remaining funds of the contract, leaving $40,000 still due upon completion of the project. When I presented my paperwork to the homeowner, both he and I (though I was sure he already knew) discovered that $100,000 had been pulled from the loan without my knowledge in order to pay for the land. I had no documentation identifying the transaction and throughout the project the bank never brought the $100,000  discrepancy to my attention. The sizable deficiency made it necessary for the home owner to follow the process of re-financing his construction loan, a process that would take a month. Meanwhile, I'm holding an empty bag with which to pay a hundred grand to my sub contractors. The bank, idiots for sure, MY bank to boot, agreed to float me a $105,000 short term note designed for me to pay my subs while they modified their deal with the homeowner. At this point I should have realized none of this would ever be funny to my wife. Definitely not good ammunition for an April Fools Day joke. Somewhere deep within the recesses of my brain I knew this, but given my short time frame, my compulsive nature and my all too often not latent idiocy, I pulled a boner of epic proportions.

I knew the homeowners had been planning a trip to California for some time. They were leaving the very week of all confusion and they did not sign the proper bank papers before they hit the road. Amy knew some of the score and was none too comfortable about the whole deal. She did not know about the California trip. She knew I was on the hook for 105K. I

had already dealt the dough to my guys. This was where I found out not to be clever at all. This was a defining moment for me and the definition defined is idiot. Me. Idiot.

That fateful day I called Amy, secretly preening to myself at my cleverness, and told her we had a real problem and that I didn't know what to do. I told her that my homeowner failed to sign the re-financing papers and had headed to California with a truckload of belongings. None of this was a lie, though I, cleverly, failed to tell Amy that the belongings belonged to their son, and that they were helping him to move out there. I told Amy I had to figure it all out and then I hung up the phone. I didn't call her back all day. That evening I came home to find her extremely distraught. She asked me what was going to happen. I held on to my cleverness as long as I could, and despite all efforts to feign worry, I developed a shit eating grin, losing my composure second by second. She was not amused. She was very upset and not getting answers. She was unhappily confused, irritated as my concealment became uncontainable. I could hold it in no longer and blurted "April Fool!". She just stared at me, dumbfounded. I stared back, dumb. I knew at that moment I was in deep caca. I knew at that moment that I had pissed on a line I should never have crossed. I knew at that moment I was an idiot. I didn't know at that moment but would find out very soon that payback was a bitch. I was to soon learn that what goes around not only comes around but gains momentum. Oh boy.

She was mad when I explained it all. She never for an instant thought I was clever but she was sympathetic enough not to call me an idiot to my  face. Kind of like not telling a special needs  kid he's stupid. Eventually, she let me off the hook (or so I thought).

The next day, April 1, I think, was uneventful for the most part- until evening. Amy was done talking about my indiscretion. I was safe.

That evening I attended Taekwondo class up the road- the last of normalcy I can remember about that night. My truck was parked on a side street adjacent to the school. I finished up class and exited the building in my uniform. Things went bonzo. Ten feet out the door, someone hit me with a couple gallons of cold water. I never saw who it was. I stumbled, cleared my eyes and got hit with a full bag of flower. Do you know what happens when flour hits water? I thought so. Do you know what it FEELS like? I thought not. I never saw Amy. She has forever denied involvement. She's a liar.

All guilty parties ran for the hills. I'm sure I saw my kids as they bolted. I was a pasty mess, but I couldn't be mad. I certainly had it coming. So... I headed to my truck. In the nineties I never locked anything. Since that fateful day I ALWAYS lock EVERYTHING. I didn't look too closely at my truck as I grabbed the handle to open the door. My hand slipped. I tried again. Again it slipped and I realized the handle was slathered with Crisco. You know, the paste in a can variety. All over the handle. By now, the funny was being replaced with irritation. I was, you see, cold and wet and pasty. I looked up to see "April Fool" written on the windshield with fat Magic marker. Ok, so they got me. All I wanted was to be home. I managed to open the truck door with two greasy  hands. When you think a joke is over, never allow yourself to believe it. As I pulled the door open, I discovered some evil wench had filled the entire cab of my truck with packing peanuts. All the way up to the dash they rose. I could only see half of the steering wheel. In a panic not to fill the street with Styrofoam pellets, I jumped on/in the pile and slammed the door shut. I felt like I was riding a booster seat. I had to burrow my feet down to the pedals. I started the truck. Thank God they hadn't thought of disconnecting the battery. I looked up at the writing on the windshield and hit the wipers/washer. Bad idea. Apparently the remains of the Crisco found its way to my wiper blades. Demonic children!

I found a small ungreased area in the windshield through which to peer and managed to creep home, where I opened my truck door and unceremoniously sloughed out most of the packing peanuts onto the ground. A light breeze carried them to and fro. I later found out that Amy forced Sarah outside to chase them all down and bag them. Sarah's perceived triumph over us both was expertly executed when, the next night, we found them filling our bed in place of a cover sheet, leaves dirt and all. She got the last laugh. Backtracking, when I entered the house, cold, wet, pasty and adorned with peanut ornaments, Amy met me on the porch. While she maintains her innocence to this day, I will always remember what she said between snorts and guffaws: Money- not funny category...Packing peanuts- funny category.

I will forever remember this.