Todd, Goodyear Real Estate Agent aka The Great Tuna Hunter, was on a chartered fishing boat the last couple of days – with his dad and friends – “hunting for a big tuna”. Guess who received his forwarded phone calls? Guess who he put in charge of 5 different email accounts? You got it. Yep. Me. His wife. The Tuna Hater.
No cell service out there in the middle of the Pacific. Poor guy. I’m sure this was very tough on him. After all, self-employed business owners depend on those smart phones to feed their families. But, hey, he was out catching tuna – as he says, “to feed his family” – so that counts, right?
(I haven’t told him yet that the idea of 100 pounds of tuna in our extra freezer makes me want to puke. Probably should keep that to myself until the “awesomeness of the hunt/proud caveman thing” wears off.)
The first morning, I dropped Joey off at the sitter’s house at 9 a.m. – the usual. Guess who had EIGHT voicemails before 9 a.m.? Yep – Todd Kortright. Well, not really – the calls were forwarded to me, The Tuna Hater lady, remember? My head was still spinning with “Isty Bitsy” and “Twinkle, Twinkle” and “McQueen!!!! MOMMY!!! McQUEEN” (as in Lightning McQueen, of course) and stupid “spill proof” sippy cups that SPILL all day long and nose tickles from the sweetest toddler ever. EIGHT VOICEMAILS! Yes, I said eight voicemails BEFORE 9 a.m. Duh, no wonder Todd is always running around like a tuna fish with his head cut off.
I’m going to give myself several gold stars now, so look out. While The Great Tuna Hunter was away, his amazing partner/wife/assistant helped Dennis close on his first Sun City “flip” home after a super screwy paperwork fiasco that required frantically checking and promptly returning email to the title company every three minutes over the course of two days, reassured a very stressed seller’s agent that Todd’s clients will most likely still want to buy the short sale she has listed (even though the bank suddenly decided they want $189k instead of $173k), MOVED A COUCH OUT OF A RENTAL PROPERTY BY MYSELF in 105 degree heat to the curb (Joey helped – as much as an 18 month can), coordinated landscapers and cleaning crews on last minute jobs, answered 9,000 phones calls and returned 15,000 emails. I crashed John Deere and Lightning McQueen into walls and each other and my face and Joey’s belly button each morning and each night, taught Joey “Ring Around the Rosy/We All Fall Down” and repeated the “fall down” part approximately 427 times, washed avocado out of little boy hair (both nights), visited my mom-in-law and played princess in a castle (aka sit on the tile under the kitchen table for 20 minutes with a bowl – aka princess crown – on your head) while my nephew slayed the dragon and Joey spilled milk from his “spill-proof” sippy cup that spills all the time. You get the point. Any advice you have for Tuna Master Todd on how to thank his wife would be much appreciated. Did I mention that I moved a couch by myself? Thank you.
By the way, I secretly have a new level of respect for Todd the Real Estate Agent Superhero who very much deserved a break, and I will soon post photos of the very last cast which, in case you haven’t heard, resulted in Todd catching the biggest, meanest 33 pound tuna you’ve ever seen.