On Why I've Named my Razor "Delilah"

Today started out like every other day. In fact, things seemed to be going quite well. Shepherd was pretty chipper, I actually got a shower, and shaved my legs (which, looking back, probably was what set this whole sequence of events in motion, because, like Samson, my powers to get through the day must lie within my hair, the only difference here is we're talking leg-hair vs. Fabio locks... anyways...).

Shepherd and I got ready to run a few errands, and then go meet Beth and Mia for lunch. I had just crossed the county line, and BLAM!!!! flat tire. I pulled over, got out, walked around the car, and admired the flatty flatness that was my tire. I sat there, debating on whether or not to change it myself. I hate, hate, HATE calling Triple A because I am perfectly capable of changing my own flat tire. The only time I've ever called them was when I got a flat while 8 months pregnant with Shepherd. But this time, I looked at the tire, looked at Shepherd smiling at me from the backseat, and looked at the hill my car was sitting on. I remembered something about not changing a flat on an incline, so, decided it would be best to call Triple-A. I called, and the guy I got must have been new or something, because he went through the questions like a TEXTBOOK. I've used my husband's AAA card before, and never had trouble, but this guy was giving me a fit. Remembering that Forrest is on his mothers AAA account, I sucked it up and lied. I said I was his mother. I'm very convincing like that. And he bought it. Also? I have the worst time remebering her address in NC, and when asked for the address, I automatically recalled it, perfectly. This was very convinient. I gave them some sob story about how I had an infant in the car (knowing that AAA normally takes five-hundred hours to come help you, I thought it would help) (it did) and they were out there in 20 minutes flat (har.... har....... HAR). They changed the tire and sent me on my way.

I arrived to see beautiful Beth and Mia waiting on me, and we went in for lunch. We enjoyed some good food, some cuteness from the kiddos, and then Shepherd got restless. So, it looked as though it was time to go. I headed out to the car, said goodbye to Beth and Mia, and as I loaded Shepherd up, this lady approached me. She said her car had broken down, and rolled down the hill into my car. I looked at the bumper, looked at her, looked back at the bumper, and sighed. Last year, sometime, Forrest had backed into a fire hydrant, leaving a corner of the bumper scratched, and chipped the paint off. As tempting as it was to blame this woman for the damage my own husband did, beyond that, there wasn't much wrong with the bumper. So, I told her it was fine, and not to worry about it. She seemed relieved, and I got in my car to head to the tire place.

I arrived to get my tires, and they inform me there was a 2 hour wait. Fine, whatever, I told myself, I'll just browse the stores around the tire place, maybe get some shopping done. I checked back in an hour later, just to make sure things were okay, and they said they were just pulling my car into the shop, and that it'd be 30 minutes. Thirty minutes later, I check back in, and the guy looks at me and asks who the last person to work on my tires was. You guys, I reply. I was just in here 2 weeks ago getting new tires put on, and you rotated all of the tires. Oh, he says, we can't get the lug nut off. Great... So, his manager says, Let me have a shot at it. And 5 minutes later, they both walk out, sheepishly looking at me. The manager holds out his hand, and there, in his palm is the lug nut. No problem, you're thinking... but if you saw what I saw, you'd realize there was a problem. They broke the stud off, and it was in the lug nut. Meaning? A trip to ANOTHER car shop to get the lug nut stud replace. And a trip BACK to the tire shop, so they can pay me for the repair. Like I have all this time to be running around town, getting stuff fixed.

The worst part isn't that we had to buy new tires, because I'm happy that my car is safe now, with 4 new shoes. It's not that the guy broke the lug nut stud, although that's pretty crappy. The problem is that we just shelled out a TON of money to get the windows fixed in one of the cars (they wouldn't roll down... or up on one of them, so it was stuck down, and had to be fixed). I'm SO sick of car repairs.

So, after Forrest got home, I sat down and almost lost it from the stress of the day. I refused to fix dinner, so we ate at Panera. We came home to a messy house (as I'd originally planned on cleaning, I left the house a wreck), and we both proceeded to clean like crazy people (only after watching Project Runway, which, VINCENT!??! Winning?!?!! Holy CRAP I don't understand these judges... the man is a LOON!) (As if I wasn't mad enough for Allison being kicked off in lieu of Vincent last week, he goes and wins this week's challenge) (***Huge Eyeroll***) (Okay, enough with the parenthesis).

So yeah... all that to say, my bad day started with me shaving my legs. I'm throwing out my razor....