Our nice visit with Young Elder Quinnton stirred a not funny at the moment but funny afterward memory that sometimes I wish I would forget. It happened maybe three and a half years ago, and it was definitely before we were married or engaged (it's a wonder we still got married).
It all started at 3 am, after a few hours of sleep, on a Sunday morning. The previous morning Quinn decided he wanted to go on his choir trip (probably because there was a cute girl he liked); so being the fools that we are, we agreed to do his blasted paper route (which unfortunately happened to be the longest one in North America).
At the time I was pretty naive to paper routes. I knew my parents had one when I was little to help supplement the income, but I also knew that I did early morning seminary for four years and I was pretty sure I could handle one early day, but boy was I wrong. I should have told Sam that I changed my mind and did not want to help when we pulled up to the curb to load the papers and saw thousands of the Sunday ads, coupons and newspapers lining the sidewalk. Or the fact that it was raining which added one more step of bagging the papers to the list of passing them out. Or the fact that it might as well have been snowing, because that is how cold it felt. That morning was the biggest suck that ever sucked.
We were the last car there by a long thirty minutes or so trying to load all of the papers into little brown. The trunk, back seat, passenger foot space, and my seat were all full to the brim of the stupid Idaho Statesmens'. After we miraculously got them all loaded we were already an hour into our adventure (funny thing, Quinner Binner tricked us. He told us the whole thing would only take about an hour and a half). Then we were off to start the actual paper route, pouring rain and all. I started bundling up the collection of papers and shoving them into the bags (which can be equated to trying to shove a large person into size zero pants, ya, its that hard. Especially when your hands are numb). And that is how our morning continued to play out, hour after hour after hour.
Next thing we know the sun is rising and we are only half way done, even though we have been at it for a good four hours. We are working hard, I am trying to not cry (aka kill Sam for getting me into this mess) when Quinn calls. He is heading back from the choir retreat to make it on time for 9 am church. Unfortunately it is looking grim for us on the whole making it to church thing because it is well past 8 am, we are handing papers to angry people in bathrobes, and we are only half way done. It is at this point we begin to contemplate how bad it would be for us to just give up and go home (only would have cost Quinn is job which, at the time, did not seem that bad, and probably seemed like more of a favor).
Lucky for Quinner (and the longevity of his life), he came to relieve us of our duties when we were just barely over half way done with the route, so we could return home to get ready for church. Fifteen minutes after we had returned home and barely thawed off who comes walking through the door? Quinn. Yes its true, he did in ten minutes what took us five (plus) hours to do. That's a pretty good self esteem booster if there ever was one.
Something I learned from this incident? I will never, ever, ever have, participate in, help or do a paper route ever again. I will be homeless first.
And for your viewing pleasure, the one and only picture that documents the awful occasion...
.jpg)
...the reason there is only one picture you ask? Probably because I threatened Sam so badly with his life that he did not dare take another.
It all started at 3 am, after a few hours of sleep, on a Sunday morning. The previous morning Quinn decided he wanted to go on his choir trip (probably because there was a cute girl he liked); so being the fools that we are, we agreed to do his blasted paper route (which unfortunately happened to be the longest one in North America).
At the time I was pretty naive to paper routes. I knew my parents had one when I was little to help supplement the income, but I also knew that I did early morning seminary for four years and I was pretty sure I could handle one early day, but boy was I wrong. I should have told Sam that I changed my mind and did not want to help when we pulled up to the curb to load the papers and saw thousands of the Sunday ads, coupons and newspapers lining the sidewalk. Or the fact that it was raining which added one more step of bagging the papers to the list of passing them out. Or the fact that it might as well have been snowing, because that is how cold it felt. That morning was the biggest suck that ever sucked.
We were the last car there by a long thirty minutes or so trying to load all of the papers into little brown. The trunk, back seat, passenger foot space, and my seat were all full to the brim of the stupid Idaho Statesmens'. After we miraculously got them all loaded we were already an hour into our adventure (funny thing, Quinner Binner tricked us. He told us the whole thing would only take about an hour and a half). Then we were off to start the actual paper route, pouring rain and all. I started bundling up the collection of papers and shoving them into the bags (which can be equated to trying to shove a large person into size zero pants, ya, its that hard. Especially when your hands are numb). And that is how our morning continued to play out, hour after hour after hour.
Next thing we know the sun is rising and we are only half way done, even though we have been at it for a good four hours. We are working hard, I am trying to not cry (aka kill Sam for getting me into this mess) when Quinn calls. He is heading back from the choir retreat to make it on time for 9 am church. Unfortunately it is looking grim for us on the whole making it to church thing because it is well past 8 am, we are handing papers to angry people in bathrobes, and we are only half way done. It is at this point we begin to contemplate how bad it would be for us to just give up and go home (only would have cost Quinn is job which, at the time, did not seem that bad, and probably seemed like more of a favor).
Lucky for Quinner (and the longevity of his life), he came to relieve us of our duties when we were just barely over half way done with the route, so we could return home to get ready for church. Fifteen minutes after we had returned home and barely thawed off who comes walking through the door? Quinn. Yes its true, he did in ten minutes what took us five (plus) hours to do. That's a pretty good self esteem booster if there ever was one.
Something I learned from this incident? I will never, ever, ever have, participate in, help or do a paper route ever again. I will be homeless first.
And for your viewing pleasure, the one and only picture that documents the awful occasion...
.jpg)
...the reason there is only one picture you ask? Probably because I threatened Sam so badly with his life that he did not dare take another.
2 comments:
hahaha! I Love your stories Terri. And I can say after reading that, that I too will never ever participate in a paper route either! :)
I think you really captured the overwhelming hopelessness you feel when you pull up to pick up the papers . . . it's a horrible feeling. You guys were troopers! I still can't believe everyone was (almost) on time to church that morning!
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