Brett found he was having brake problems and had his truck taken apart when I got home last night. He told me he’d need a ride to work with me this morning.

When we got ready to leave this morning, Brett walked up the hill toward his truck. So, sleepy and trying to be helpful, I put the Jeep in reverse and backed up the driveway.

Brett has the crane and dump trucks parked pretty much in the middle of the driveway, so I had to veer off into the woods a bit to clear them. I hit a tree and knocked off my passenger side rear view mirror. The truck is old and the plastic is brittle and it just popped off, the damn thing. I felt like a dumb ass, and I figured I’d get mercilessly laughed at for my bad driving and juvenile mistake. How embarassing. Hitting a non-moving obstacle in my own damn driveway.

I manouvered the Jeep away from the tree and continued backing up, then got out to look at it. Brett approached and then – it was really weird – he proceeded to pretty much lose his fucking mind, wanting to know (in loud tones) why I’d do something so stupid.

I told him it was a mistake, an accident, and that I was sorry.

“That’s a hundred dollars right there to fix! What the hell were you fucking thinking! You’d usually never do anything that goddamned stupid!! Why didn’t you wait near the fucking house!!” He went on and on, hollering at me. He was totally fucking pissed off over a mirror when he breaks shit much worse than that for fun when he goes 4-wheeling!

He put the hanging mirror in through the wing window and got in the passenger’s seat, yelling at me all the while like I was some recalcitrant and expensive teenaged daughter, and I began to drive off the property. “Go the back way, so you don’t fucking hit something again!” he yelled.

So I pointed the Jeep at the back driveway and began my morning communte while Brett kept going off on me.

About twenty feet later I started going off right back at him. “Dude! What the hell is your problem! It was a mistake, an accident! Jesus, you break shit all the time yourself! I didn’t fucking mean it! It’s just a mirror!” Fifteen seconds after I started to dish his own shit back at him, he grabbed the shifter – while I was fucking driving! – and put the Jeep in neutral and yelled, “Stop, stop the fucking car right now!”

When I did, he got out of the Jeep and stomped off in a missive tizzy. He was smoking pissed off, and he’s told me before that when he gets that mad he walks away and shouldn’t be followed or he’ll end up hitting someone.

Well, screw that. It’s not my fault he lost his temper over nothing! I got out and asked if I was supposed to leave or to wait for him. He couldn’t be bothered to reply and just kept walking away from me, so I drove out the back driveway and into the front and walked up the hill to where he was tightening the lugs on his wheel with a four-way.

“WHAT!” he yelled when he saw me.

“I came around to get you. You need a ride to work.” I said.

He dropped his truck to the ground with a hard bounce and yanked the lift out from underneath it, then stomped past me to the house. Stella and I followed him, then stayed outside for a bit. When he didn’t come out, I went in. He stomped out past me. I followed back him out. By now I was finally beginning to get pissed off at him.

He proceeded to gather the compressor hose together and yelled, “You can go!” and then dragged the compressor up the hill.

I stood and watched his back, murmuring, “What the hell is your problem, dude?”

So I drove to work by myself, and he drove his truck (with no brakes) because apparently he was either angry that I’d made an idiotic driving mistake or that I’d flipped his own tantrum right back at him. I mean, we’ve been getting along great the past few days, and nothing in his routine has changed that I know about, so I have no idea what it was that really set him off. Oh, those enigmatic red heads and their hot July tempers!

I’m curious to see how he handles this tonight. Will he still be in a snit? Will he come home late after hitting a bar and pass out on the couch without talking to me? Will he start in on me again for a trivial side mirror? Or will he be sweet and sunny and pretend it didn’t happen?

Hell, will I get home late after a stop at the bar? Only the Shadow knows!