You know the saying, death happens in 3s? I’m really hoping that includes cars. Last week my father-in-law died (Tuesday) and then Thursday, outside of daycare, Leif’s car died. Had to be towed to the mechanic. And then today, after a dental appt, MY car died when Leif tried to start it. His car was in the shop. I did okay with dealing with the first dead car, but having zero cars? Not good.
(It also did not help that got 4 hours of sleep as it was Showdown at the Crib last night. Two and a half hours of squaring off with Nova. I had decided I was NOT going to nurse her, NOT going to bring her to bed just because she woke up. She didn’t like that much. But I won eventually. The last 20 minutes were excruciating, but she finally wore herself out at 1:30 am. So I was not very cognizant today.)
Anyway, the car. Leif called me from the dental office’s parking lot. My car was dead. No lights, no clock, absolutely no sign of life. Finally I went to ask a coworker if he would drive me to get a car battery and take me to Leif. I almost broke down at this point, but amazingly enough I did not cry. My voice was pretty quavering though. Then Leif called and had miraculously got it started–so I told him to drive it to the mechanic.
Luckily, my car just had some loose connections. They fixed it for free and told Leif to call me and let me know that I could relax now. They also fixed Leif’s car. The ignition cylinder was tricky to remove, all locked up, but they said if it wasn’t easy to remove, people would be stealing cars all the time.
And then after the kids were in bed I got a call. If was from some guy who sounded like he knew me, but he sounded Southern–and gay. Turns out he was a deputy. See, a couple of years ago a deputy called me, a real authoritative guy, and I was so freaked out that a deputy was calling me I stayed on the line. Turns out he wanted a donation for bullet proof vests and child fingerprinting kits. I had been on the phone long enough by the time I realized it was solicitation that I agreed to donate $20 or some such thing.
This time, I wanted to giggle throughout the conversation. I stayed on the line because his drawl was so pronounced and he was hilarious to listen to. Since he made me smile, I promised $20 again. So apparently I need to be scared or amused in order to donate, I don’t know. I should have told him that he can get a donation from me as long as he personally calls me every year.