It has been that kind of week again.
Had a prescription for Lithium or Prozac been chilling in my house somewhere, I would’ve downed the bottle. Not to kill myself (although, that was on my mind earlier in the week), but to calm myself. Stressed to the max!
Anyway, I should have known “something wicked this way comes” on Sunday. First of all, my Sunday didn’t unfold in its regular fashion. Instead of staying glued to the Lazy-Boy and watching movie after movie with the occasional Office/Entourage/Seinfeld episode thrown in there, my Sunday started with a committee meeting. We had teens at the office experimenting with crafts and activities for a big event in October. I went down into our basement for spare supplies. As I was walking up the stairs, I became aware that my keys were no longer with me.
This posed a problem. First, I was the only employee at the office and I wouldn’t be able to get back into the basement to retrieve the keys. Second, not only were the keys to my office on my key ring, the keys to my car were on there. Had I just locked office keys in the basement, I would’ve said screw it until Monday morning. But I kind of needed to drive back home, so screw it, I couldn’t. Anyway, I made a few calls all to no avail. Finally I got a hold of someone who was stepping out for a minute. She lives relatively close, so she had no problem coming by to unlock the basement for me. I got my keys back and everything was great.
And then Monday dawned.
I drove to the gym and noticed that my car was pulling one way. I didn’t think anything of it. I needed to have my oil changed here soon, and I chalked it up to the car being out of alignment of the tires needing to be rotated. It would get looked at when I changed the oil. I toughed it through my workout despite the ache in my tibialis anterior (the muscle that runs alongside your shin), and then went out to my car.
I pulled out of my parking space and heard *thumpa, thumpa, thumpa.* I got out and looked. I had a flat tire…front driver side. There was a gas station a mile and a half away. Never having had an actual flat tire (they have been low, but never completely flat), I thought I could make it there and air the tire up and everything would be hunky dory. That was not the case. And I should have just put the car in park and changed the tire at the gym, but, oh no…my brain does not work in that way.
Anyway, I get onto the highway that takes me from the gym to the gas station. I’m driving 15 mph and the car is shaking! Violently! I slow down to 10 mph. It’s still shaking though not as bad. After about a half a mile, I start flipping about having two flat tires. I pull over on the highway and look. No, just the one. This one tire is sure flipping me out.
I consider changing the tire on the highway and even open my trunk to do so. About the time I’m pulling the jack from the little compartment, a semi breezes past me. I get back in the car. Yes, I know how to change a tire. I have changed a tire in the dead of winter three sheets to the wind wearing my sister’s Triple X Vin Diesel jacket for warmth. But I am not changing a driver side tire on the highway between the hours of 7:30 and 8:00 a.m. when everyone and their brother seems to be on their way to work (And wondering how the unemployment rate is so high). I may be crazy, but I’m not a complete lunatic and at that moment I didn’t have a death wish.
Later in the day I did. But back to the story.
I’m stressing majorly. I’m stranded on the highway, in sweat-soaked clothes, I have to shower, I have to get to work, and I just don’t know what to do. I was Irrational Erin. During the IA (Irrational Attack) I did find a moment to think clearly. I called my sister until she answered and arranged for her to pick me up. I apologized and felt like an idiot, like I should’ve known better, and felt bad for waking her up. I know, the tire wasn’t exactly my fault, but still…
My ride was taken care of. Now I just needed to get my car off of the highway.
The lucky thing is that my uncle is a part owner in a body shop. I called and got his cell and arranged for a tow, two new tires (I’m not an airhead, I know you can’t replace one tire, you have to buy tires in even numbers), and while the car is in the garage to go ahead and change the oil.
I had to leave my car unlocked on the highway with the keys hidden under a seat for the tow.
Andrea picked me up. I left the car unlocked and took my keys. I’m a brainchild.
Anyway, I apologized still, not quite able to shake how bad I was feeling. It didn’t help that I didn’t fall asleep until almost two to wake up at six. Andrea said shit happens and shoved me into the bathroom. I didn’t make my bed. That’s not something I like to forget and that night I slept on wrinkled sheets. Another pet peeve of mine. She drove me to the body shop before work to drop my keys off, and then we went to the good Donut Bank where we ordered two tiger tails and two glazed donuts. They shorted me one of my tiger tails. I am not surprised.
Around noon, the body shop calls me. My car is done. I’m done. The bill is $168.
When I get back to the office, I look at my bill. $65 for labor! All they did was change the oil and put on two new tires. I KNOW that could not have taken more than an hour! I could’ve changed my tire in ten minutes with my dinky little jack! They just put the car on a lift! I went into the wrong field. Mechanics are making more than me and my college degree.
Bad luck comes in threes.
So I have been waiting for the third thing to happen.
This is precisely why I should have just sacrificed myself to the semi’s on Highway 41 to change my tire. At least my family would’ve benefitted. They wouldn’t be millionaires, but I’m sure they could sue the Sheriff’s Department since I saw a sheriff pass me without even blinking an eye at the poor citizen having car issues. So much for “to protect and serve.”
It’s now Thursday. So far nothing has happened. No pianos have landed on my head. No hackers have stolen my identity. No government official has labeled me a threat to society. Nope, the only thing really bad is the damn tibialis anterior that’s been hurting all week and the fact that I’ve been three pounds heavier than normal this week.
There have been some close calls though.
Tuesday I went to Wal-Mart for snacks for a committee meeting. I talked to my friend Ryan on the phone and then put my phone away. I didn’t put it in my back pocket and couldn’t find it in my purse. I assumed I left it at the checkout, so I turned around to look for it. When I got it, I realized that I had put it in my front pocket.
That same Tuesday, I listened to my Ipod at work. My meeting was from 4-5 and I got done cleaning up at 5:30. I went back to my desk to grab my purse, keys, chapstick, etc. I made a point to grab my headphones because I’ll forget them, but didn’t see my Ipod out. I assumed I had already put it in my purse.
Wednesday morning I looked for my Ipod in my purse when I got to the gym. No Ipod. I assumed the Ipod was under some papers at work. A big negative. I began thinking. I sent an email out to everyone. No one had seen my Ipod! I called the building manager who gave me the cleaner’s number. I am now flipping. I’m already $168 in the hole. Do I really want to add another $400 on top of that? Um, NO! I can’t concentrate on work. My Ipod is a big part of my workout. And I workout six days a week without missing a beat. Rain, ice, sleet, snow, sickness, swine flu, none of it will keep me from the gym. This is due largely to the fact that if I don’t work out, I chastise myself for eating. I literally begrudge every bite I take if I skip a work out. And I like eating. So missing a work out is like a triple negative. I’m mad at myself for eating, mad because I’m mad at myself for eating, and I haven’t had my normal endorphin boost.
Thankfully, I found my Ipod. The cleaners found it and stuck it on the wrong desk. Whether or not this is true, I’m not sure. All I know is the thing is password protected and thanks to my brother’s hijinks it has an engraving on the back that says: STOLEN FROM Erin Hobgood. Try that on for identifying marks!
So, I’m sitting here still wondering what bad-ness the future has in store for me. Please, god, whatever it is, do not involve my car. Give me food poisoning (which wouldn’t be so bad if I lost weight), cause me to break an arm (not a leg b/c I can still run w/ a broken arm), have me accidentally get tazed, have my phone get stolen (insurance!), just nothing happen to the car, or my Ipod!
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