Yesterday, The Hubs needed me to run a couple of errands for him. Since I’m still between gigs, I was amenable to this. After all, I do love him. He’s very good to me. Usually. But every once in a while, he’s diabolical to the point where I question my sanity.

It all started out innocently enough. I was going to take his Suburban because one of the items he needed – a large bicycle box – would not fit in my little Mini Cooper. On these errands, I usually call Momma. It gives us a chance to talk and not torture The Hubs with our nonsensical female chatter. We talk about everything and anything and stuff that no one else would think is important. I enjoy that. Sometimes, it’s nice to have a break from the seriousness of life.

Here are some important details to keep in mind as you read:

• We have an app that tells us when our garage door opens and closes. I don’t actually have this activated on my phone right now. Matt does, and it makes a sound when the garage door is opened or closed.
• I like some of Taylor Swift’s music. Not much of it. I will admit that some of her tunes are catchy and I like to sing to them. They are also incredible ear worms. Believe me, this is a painful admission I am making. If it wasn’t critical to this story, no one would know that I have some of her music on my iPhone.
• The Suburban has after-market blue tooth capabilities through the radio. I do not have a good relationship with this particular bit of technology. It has 2 blue tooth channels – BT1 and BT2 – and I can never remember which one I should use.
• The blue tooth requires a passcode. In my Mini Cooper, it’s one 4-digit number; in the ‘Burb, it’s a different 4-digit number. I can never remember which number works with which vehicle.

Now that you have some background to this, I can get to the meat of the story. I started the ‘Burb, scrolled through the channels and found BT1. It connected. Wow! It’s never been this seamless before! Suddenly, Taylor Swift’s We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together is streaming through the radio. What the heck? Ugh! I should have known that was too simple. Ok. Let’s fix this. I opened my music app, but nothing seemed to be playing. Hmm. Odd.

I try to connect again. Several times. I am still getting Taylor Swift. Or it won’t connect. Or it tells me “Device Denied.” I’ve rebooted my phone twice. I’ve turned blue tooth connectivity off and on for my phone six times, but it still says it’s not connecting. I’ve switched to BT2. I’ve entered both passcodes. Still nothing but Taylor Swift.

I realized that I hadn’t closed the garage door, so I hit the button and when it closed, I hear the noise that the app makes when the door closes, coming through the radio. Hmm. That’s really odd. I don’t have that activated on my phone. But whatever. I was tired of messing with this, so I decided to just go. I’d have to call Momma later. Meanwhile, I had this ear worm in my head. I was really unhappy. It was only in my head now, not even playing anymore through the radio.

I pull out of the driveway, and the sound on the radio crackles.  That’s odd. I pulled over about 2 blocks away. I was going to try this one more time. BT2 connected on the first try. No T-Swift.  Success!!! I called Momma. Because our conversation started out on an entirely unrelated note, I completely forgot about the 10 minutes of connectivity hell I had just gone through. We chatted as I drove.

I ended our calls when I reached each destination on my journey. But I had no issue reconnecting and calling her each time I started out again. I finally got home, said goodbye to Momma for the final time and went inside. I never thought to mention my connectivity issues to The Hubs as I figured it was just my ineptness with technology.

Later, we had Last Man Standing on TV. The main character, Mike Baxter, is doing his weekly vlog, and mentions Taylor Swift. The Hubs casually asked, “By the way, did you have any blue tooth connectivity issues in the ‘Burb?”

Son. Of. A. Bitch. I looked up from my iPad and see The Hubs laughing! Laughing so hard, his face was bright red and he could barely breathe.  I’d been had. He’d messed with me the whole time I sat in the driveway. Suddenly, all the pieces fell into place.

It wasn’t my phone that played Taylor Swift; it was his. It was also his phone that made the notification noise about the garage door. There were other names that I called him after that- many, many not nice, but very appropriate for the situation names.

While I was being nice and running errands on his behalf, he decided to mess with me. And he succeeded. Well played, Dear Hubs, well played. Just remember that paybacks are a bitch, that revenge is a dish best served cold, that I will get even with you and that you started this war.