Whenever Husband wants to coax me out of the house, he goes down to the garage, starts up the car – either will do – and revs the engine. The garage is one level down, so the living room floor thrums at 2000 rpm. At 2500 rpm, pictures start falling off the mantelpiece. I worry about structural integrity of the house at 3000.
It is an inspired twist on sitting in the car beeping the horn. Not only is it more passive-aggressive, the strategy works on several levels: if I am not irritated into action or shaken out of the house, I will eventually be smoked out. (I’ve never caught him at it, but I’m pretty sure Husband backs up the car and vacuum-seals the exhaust pipe to the door connecting garage to house.)
This morning, I was ready before Husband for a change. After balancing the picture frames on the edge of the mantelpiece, I popped down to the garage for a spot of energetic revving.
Only to find that Husband had stolen my keys.
He is a devious man