Today, for the second time in our relationship, my husband was caught outside in his underwear. At 7:30am this morning, this what not a funny event. At one point he was so furious he could not even bring himself to look at me. By 8:30pm this evening, it was one of the funniest memories I will ever have of him. You have probably already gathered that I am being blamed for this early morning ‘hiccup’. Anyway, you be the judge, here’s how it happened.
Today was my ‘working day’, which as any mum would know is the only day of the week that the children are guaranteed to sleep in. Any other day you could poke a stick at, they are there tapping on your arm at 5.30am asking to watch the cartoons. To which you reply ‘Mate, even the cartoons aren’t awake yet, go back to sleep’. This little sleep in led to a cascading series of late events. Late showers, late breakfast, late dressing and a few little tantrums thrown in to remind you that they are feeling rushed. By the time I was finally ready to walk out the door, I was feeling more than a little frazzled. Knowing my husband (Mr K) had a spare hour up his sleeve dedicated to getting himself ready in peace, quiet and solitude, I asked for some help in getting the kids into the car.
Mr K obliged and proceeded out towards the carport. I followed shortly after with my keys in hand, turned around and locked the door behind me. This is just an automatic action, after previously having left the door open a few times. I remember looking at Mr K as he put the kids in the car thinking ‘Why is he outside in his undies?’ But then quickly dismissed it, gave him a kiss and hopped in the car.
We waved to Mr K as he stood judging my driving ability and shaking his head at me as I avoided riding up the curb. I pointed through the windscreen to remind him about his undies, but he shook his head as though he didn’t understand. It was a short drive to the Kindy, and I had just pulled up to the front door, with Son 2 in my arms and Son 1 escaping through the Gate, when I look to my left to see a freaky, frantic, half naked man puffing with fear and disbelief shouting ‘Are you serious?’ as he cleared the gate in one huge jump. I was confused and a bit scared.
I still didn’t know what had happened at this stage. I looked at him and realized it was my husband, but still hadn’t connected how and why he had appeared so quickly at the Kindy without a car, why he had no shoes on and was sweating like a pig and why he was in his underwear. In a state of confusion I asked ‘Are you coming in?’ ( kindy) He looked at me with disgust and jumped to hide inside the car. It was then I realized something wasn’t right. I opened the car door and there he was visibly shaking like a plateful of frightened jelly…a half- naked plate of jelly in the Kindy car park.
After some expletives and a quick censored summary of the event, I was enlightened to what had occurred. As I was pulling out of the driveway to leave for Kindy, I had locked Mr K out in the street, in his underwear with no mobile phone, no keys and no way of getting back into our house. His only hope was to do the 700m dash from our house, past the local primary school (with kids already at the crossing) across the main road and over the Kindy fence, barefoot and in his undies. He really had no guarantee of catching me before I left, but hoped if he ran fast enough I would still be there, sparing him the awkward situation in which he would have to try and gain honest entry to a childcare facility to use the phone. I can see it now ‘Yeah right naked guy with no shoes on…..sure we will let you in to use our phone, you’re not a safety risk at all!’.
Looking back on this now, I am horrified to imagine what the children at the school were thinking seeing this weirdo run past naked with no shoes on. I’m sure there were a few mums shielding their children’s eyes and avoiding uncomfortable questions.
The best part of this story is that this is not the first time this has happened to him. So the sheer look of terror that plagued his face this morning, was a sharp reminder of how quickly this could’ve turned ugly….again. It was almost a post- traumatic stress reaction.
Back when we first moved to the Gold Coast, My husband flew up a few weeks early to get a head start in setting up our apartment. Not knowing a single soul in the state, he was left to unpack boxes one night in our six story apartment block. As some will know, many apartment blocks have a communal rubbish chute located on each floor. So again, in his underwear Mr K thought it a good idea to go and empty the bins. Not realizing the doors to the apartments were spring loaded, he found himself stranded, alone and in his underwear and locked outside of our new home. With no one to call for help or for clothing he was left with 2 choices. Sleep in the hallway and hope help arrives or perform a rather risky Spiderman impersonation up the side of the balcony and hope to hell the balcony doors were open. He chose the latter and made his way up several storeys in only his jocks. One can only imagine what would have happened if he had been caught by neighbours scaling balconies in some old jocks, that definitely had a few holes in the wrong places.
So you see my dilemma, was it his fault for being outside in his underwear again? Or mine, for being so frazzled that I locked the door on him? You be the judge.