The Peacock and The Gas Tank – Who was the Bigger Retard Here?

This is a long one, folks. So saddle up for a true Caccavo retard adventure.

Still in the middle of Project Spread-age. Dining room complete, moving across the hall now to the study. My house had been turned upside down for weeks at this point. I was nearing the end of this nightmare when we were off to our first family Nats game of the season. (Washington Nationals vs. Atlanta Braves.) We were all super excited as this was our first family trip to the new Nationals Park. (Translate – Greg did NOT want to be late.)

In the previous week, I had made yet another trip to Pier One where I purchased yet another piece of art for the study. As things usually go with me, I hated it and it had to go back. I remembered seeing this really beautiful wooden picture of a peacock. Yes, you heard me correctly, I said peacock. I remembered that it was really big, though. How big? An unfortunate slip of the brain….

I needed two things in order to make operation peacock swap a success 1.) Greg 2) His van. I knew that this would be the only day in the near future that I could catch both Greg and his van in the vicinity of a Pier One. So, me being the ever-resourceful person that I am (toot toot goes my horn), thought “Great! We can load up the ugly picture that I hated and exchange it for the peacock picture on our way back from the Nats game.” So off we go……

We left the house approximately three hours before game time. The boys needed haircuts first, so we stopped off to get that done along the way. Greg says “I’m dropping you and the boys off so that I can go get gas and cash.” A time-saving plan – I love it. The boys finish up much faster than we thought so now we have about two hours before game time. Back in the car we go, and I suggest we just go to Pier One now so that operation peacock swap is complete and we don’t have to stop on the way back. (I’m always looking for a time-saving plan.)

Some would argue that size does not matter. I can inform you that in the case of the newly acquired Caccavo peacock, size did matter. I had not realized the peacock was so big. Like 5 feet tall and 50 pounds big. In my mind – whatever! I had to be had. So it was had. As Greg is waiting for me, he circles the parking lot and returns to find a large box with two hands poking around each side, two sneakers underneath, and a Washington Nationals tee shirt flapping in the wind. Shock and horror set in as he realizes those body parts belong to his wife, and we now have to load this thing into the van. Again, after a few choice words, the removal of the kids, the repositioning of seats, and 10 minutes of sweat and swearing, the peacock is wedged in between the boys and we are on our way to DC. To say the least, no one is happy with me at this moment.

A few miles down the road. Sniff. Sniff, sniff. What is that smell???? Ok – when Greg said he was going to get gas, I assumed he meant in the van. Not the plastic gas tank that he uses to fill the lawn mower. The same gas tank that has now spilled in the back of our van. On our way to DC. Are you kidding me? There is a gas station less than a mile from our house. I’m not sure why he felt the need to fill up a plastic gas tank that would travel with us for 60 miles to DC, and then 60 miles back from DC, as well as sit and fumigate the van in the hot sun. Please God, don’t let one of the kids fart and blow us to kingdom come.

So here we are on our way to DC smelling like shit with a big ass peacock perched in the middle of the van in all its glory. Four pissed-off Caccavos, and a day at the ball park to go. I’ll let you decide who was the bigger retard in this adventure.