Not sure why, but yesterday was the day of bad luck for me.
I backed out of the driveway and started down our street to realize the car wasn't just right. I pulled over to find a completely flat rear passenger tire. Hmm, what to do? Kiddos are at a sleepover, Hubs at work. Ergghhh, I am supposed to be at work in 45 minutes.
I back up my street to return to the driveway. It was only three houses down anyway. I text my neighbor pal and she tells me to go get her hubby's pickup, they're away for the day anyway. But I have to pick up the kiddos further away after work, will the car seat fit, will their stuff fit, can I drive it, blah, blah, blah. So much to worry about.
I then call Hubs. He'll come right home. But is there enough time to change it, can I drive the 45mins down and back to get the kiddos, how did this happen, what did I run over, ergggghhhh.
I text my gal pal again and she says no problem, the kiddos can fit in the pickup, they'll love it, no worries, do what I need to. Then she says, "or Nick could take it back to work and you could take his jeep." Oh, Yeah. DUH.
Later that day...
We arrived home from work and sleepover and pulled in next to my flat tire. Poor Mommy Van. I sent the kiddos to take their shower but yet I'm the one that gets soaked.
Funny how a smart woman still takes 15-20 seconds to figure out what's
going wrong while being sprayed by a broken kitchen sink faucet and yet STILL tries it one more time.
Like I don't know by the soaking wet face, hair and shirt that obviously the faucet is busted. I just have to make sure it really happened.
I give up on the sink, place a cup, a towel, and soap in the way so that I remember (duh) not to use it again. And hopefully to give Hubs a second thought in case, for some reason, he should get to it before I can tell him.
Hubs texts to tell me he's back at the pickup's home and needs a quick ride. So I jump in the jeep. And. Can't. Get. The. Damn. Thing. Started. I can't even turn the key. I turn the wheel, I check it's in park. I step on the brake. I repeat in a different order. I try and try again. I'm going to end up breaking the damn key in the ignition the way my day's going.
I then call Hubs, again. Ok, he's on his way to me first. He had me try the same things I already had. No luck. He pulls up in the pickup, meets me at the driver's door, turns the key, no luck.
He then hands me the key, TO THE VAN.