Did I Marry a Thief?

Hurricane Irma blasted through Southwest Florida last month, causing damage, devastation, and grief to thousands of people. Not that I would know; I missed the whole thing. I dragged my wife and father into our minivan and got the hell out of the state.

And yes, “dragged” is an appropriate verb, because neither of them wanted to go. It took some clever negotiating on my part to make it happen. It certainly helped that almost all the weather reports basically said, “Hey, if you stay, you die.” So off we went to my sister Lori’s house in Cortland, Ohio.

That was a surreal experience. Cortland was having absolutely gorgeous weather, so while we were thinking everything we owned was possibly getting destroyed back home, my brother-in-law Doug was cooking barbecue and I was throwing my lucky football with my nephew Bo.

Luckily for us, Cape Coral, Florida was spared from most of Irma’s fury. In fact, our house never even lost power. Our exodus to Ohio ended up being nothing but a nice little vacation. Which leads me to the whole point of this blog. We took a few day trips sightseeing, and one in particular got pretty darn interesting. Bo decided to drive Evi and I wherever we wanted, which as any married man will tell you, means wherever my wife wanted.

Apparently, my wife wanted to go on a crime spree.

You’ll understand when you watch this video:

Even if my wife is a potential fugitive, I love her, so I’ll keep her anyway. Thanks for reading. Then watching. Then reading again.