Over the weekend we had a near death experience where a fragment of tire landed smack in front of our car while we were driving 70 miles an hour on the highway. It knocked some shit loose and before you know it, I was dragging my right front wheel-well under my tires. Not cool. Thankfully, I had some duct tape and a pair of scissors in the car (and no, it's not for kidnapping George Clooney - but if I ever saw him...) so I was able to piece poor Paolo back together somewhat and limp home.
After dropping Muffin off at school yesterday I took my car, Paolo, straight to the dealership for some TLC. This dealership has a shuttle that I utilized to go home and
(Let me tell you, fretting and anxiety can put a real damper on one's laying about schedule. I wasn't able to properly relax and flip channels at all! Grrr...)
Around 4:45pm I phoned the dealership again and SURPRISE! he was just getting ready to call me to say that Paolo was ready. Oh, and the shuttle stopped running at 2pm. WTF? I called Beach Taxi and waited. Did I mention the anxiety? The burning, churning anxiety that left me completely unable to focus on anything for more than two seconds? Imagine that feeling for half an hour! I called the taxi people back at 5:25pm and asked
By shortly, he apparently meant 10 seconds because literally as soon as I hung up the phone I heard a "beep" in my driveway. I hurled myself out the door and into the cab begging the driver to please run all red lights, mow down old ladies and baby carriages and generally make haste to the dealership.
From that moment on, it was pretty much a blur. The taxi-man sped through town, dropped me off, got paid and went on his merry way in about 8 minutes flat. Go Beach Taxi! The dealership people swiped my credit card, pulled my car up front and handed me the keys in about 5 minutes which left me all of 13 minutes to get to the preschool.
I flew to Muffin's school, jumped from the car and rushed in the building. Muffin was sitting with another little boy in the main play area looking a little lost and forlorn. Have you ever seen the expression of "forlorn" on your child? I felt lower than low. I had about two minutes to spare but the preschool people were clearly ready to leave. Packing Muffin into the car I promised that she would never be the second-to-last kid to be picked up from preschool ever again.
Then I took her to "Old MacDonald's" because nothing cures a case of Bad Mommy like a Chicken McNugget happy meal right? Gah!!