Anyone who knows me , knows that I believe from the bottom of my heart that if one has a bad Monday, the rest of week will go well. If one has a good Monday, you are screwed. Guess what, I’m screwed. Didn’t have a bad Monday, which by itself is good…but if you take it to where I live…crap.
Outside of that, apparently I should not put my key fob in my back pocket. Yeah, it tends to fall into the toilet when I go in to use the restroom. My battery is toast and of course, me, being me, has lost the other one. Therefore, I need to lock the car doors by pressing a button inside the car. To unlock the car I can use the key and yes, the alarm goes off until I put the key in the ignition and start the car. Samantha & I went to a movie on Saturday and as I unlocked the car and the alarm went off she stood in the parking lot and yelled “THIEF! THIEF! THIEF!”. I take it as a bad (although good for me on Saturday) thing that no one did anything but look at her funny. I did put the key in the ignition and then started the car which cut off the alarm and then I promptly locked her out. Really? If one feels the need to reproduce, they need to check their ancestry 1st to make sure their children will be in no way related to my dad. Samantha (okay, most of us) got that warped sense of humor from him.
In my 30’s I was one of those poor single moms, raising 3 kids and was a waitress for a living. I drove cars that were completely unreliable and had the unfortunate (for me) habit of just dying on the side of the road. It was a frequent event, and, actually, I often had to steer the dead cars to the side of the road. They never went willingly. I drove cars that leaked oil, leaked this, leaked that, smoked, you name it. Insurance was a luxury. So no, most times I wasn’t insured. If the car died, it died and was towed away to some place I’d never see it again. So, I dated a mechanic, well that doesn’t always work either. I pretty much don’t recommend that. Dump the guy, whoever he is. So thanks to everyone who’s ever picked us up and has taken us home, those known and unknown. Especially that family that picked all 4 us of up in the dead of winter, and your car was already packed. Bless you especially! Anyway, when Samantha was maybe 9 I finally put some money into a “real” car, that’s what we called it, a “real car” and we were very excited about finally having a “real car.” Shortly after purchasing this “real car,” Samantha and I walked out of Barnes & Noble one day and she, out of habit ( I know, what 9 year old does that…oh right, one of my kids…they did this religiously) she looked under the car and said “mom, something’s leaking.” So there I am, the mom, thinking I have finally have a “real car,” something dependable for my children, hell, something dependable for me so I can get to work and make some money to feed my kids…this car leaking is more than I can stand…I’m in the parking lot swearing like a sailor, stamping my feet, gesturing…I just couldn’t stand it…and then, Samantha said “…just kidding.” Right, I know…so NOT funny. That’s Samantha, and thanks dad, for that she is totally you.