Nea Fane – Un Biet Român Pripășit în America / A Hapless Romanian Stuck in The US

“You’ll get my car! And you’ll GET my car! And YOU’LL GET MY CAR!” Irina declared three weeks ago, after her favorite nephew (TFN, if you’re keeping score at home) had casually asked to borrow it – for just five days.

The other favorite nephew—let’s call him TOFN—races his Beemer every other weekend at the track. But since his fiancée drives an SUV (a two-for-one deal), no one even considers asking him for his car. Besides, you can’t exactly cruise around with a toddler in a Z-Line.

“Can we manage?” she asked me, three seconds too late, after already giving her car away.
“I, uh, I…” My brain and mouth staged a simultaneous shutdown. “Communication is key,” she said, like a motivational commercial. “Words! Use WORDS”
“Just… tell him not to fix anything,” I blurted, panic kicking in. I knew full well that had been without a car for the last three years because he keeps trying to repair it.

Now, I don’t wanna be the bad-mouthing guy here: he gave her the car back (for the first time) after four days, just in time to be taken to the garage to get the AC (and the water pump, surprise, surprise!) fixed. In the meantime, he went on a trip to Cancun for a bachelor party, but when he got back, the car was waiting for him for him all ready to do its car job. The Favorite Nephew (TFN) still thinks he could’ve fixed it himself, completely ignoring the fact that the car is still under warranty and the repairs are free. After that, we didn’t see the car anymore, but you know what they say – no news is good news, although I am worried about her. She has been a pampered car, washed, dusted, kept in the garage 100% of the time. But now she’s outside in the hot cruel world, dealing with the elements all by herself.

Managing with just one car in Arizona is something of a struggle, as we can observe simply by looking no further than The Favorite Nephew’s family: she works full-time in an office, and he works from home. Naturally, she gets the car. He gets nothing but a baby who still has to be hauled left and right. For us, it’s not too bad, since we both work at home, but, of late, I’ve been informed: “I need the car on Tuesday, Thursday until 7 pm, all day Friday, and also on Saturday. Oh, and definitely on Wednesday, too.” Unfortunately, my primitive calculations suggest that that’s five days out of a possible seven, or 70% of our average week.

“I am just so thrilled that we’re really communicating,” I muttered to myself.

Somehow we made it work, even though shopping was a bit of a mess. When I’m in a store, I know exactly what we need and precisely where the stuff is located (or hidden!). Irina, on the other hand, happily does her own thing, buying whatever she fancies from wherever she happens to find it. Sometimes I’d be standing in front of the fridge, scratching my head, as even the fridge seems bewildered by all the unexpected food on its shelves.

On Good Friday, by mistake, Irina opened the door to a young guy whose sole mission and purpose in life was to sell us new windows. From the goodness of her heart, she agreed to a meeting with “The Expert” later that day. I don’t know how short (or how long) to make this story, but suffice it to say that the quote was $71,000 (that’s Seventy-One Thousand Dollars) But: that was before a Special Promotion, “Just For You” (we’re such likable people), and only if we “Order Today.” That lowered the price to $35,000, with special financing of 9.9%. As a result, we quickly consulted with friends, neighbors, (and random passing strangers) with similar houses,… and, if the price seems outrageous, well, it’s probably because it absolutely is.

Why this story here? No reason. But. Guess who’s researching window replacement now. Spoiler Alert: not me.

Also, for no apparent reason, but still somehow related to communication, I was ready to paint a picture of what it’s like when Irina cooks Chinese food in the evening. In the process, chatter is non-stop, she narrates every step, throwing out questions left and right, even ones that don’t need answers, but they’re not, in any way, of the rhetorical sort (go figure).

Meanwhile, I quietly ruined some wings. “A total disaster,” she declared – eleven times, just in case I hadn’t grasped the full magnitude of my failure. I had no idea wings could be botched in so many creative ways. Lesson learned: stick to eating, not cooking.

Anyway, somehow I stumbled upon these comedy bits, and I loved them, and I laughed so hard, and it seemed so spot on that I had to share them with you.