Thursday, April 16, 2009

Puncture Day!

On a quick trip to the grocery store today, I picked up a nice fresh sub sandwich as a treat for my husband since we'd had nothing appetizing for him to make for lunch the night before. We got chatting with the deli employee and our conversation went exactly like this:

Deli Lady referencing the kids: 'I just LOVE their red hair'

Smiling, as I often do in response to the same statement from many people I say: 'Thanks'

Deli Lady: 'your kids really are adorable, so beautiful - they have such gorgeous eyes'

Me, smiling again 'Thank you'

Deli Lady: 'wow, they must look like their Dad, huh?'

O.U.C.H!!!!! My punctured ego!

After leaving the grocery store we headed straight for my husband's work to deliver his sandwich. A few miles down the road I hear the tell tale 'f-dump, f-dump, f-dump' accompanied by a loud BANG!

Oh, my punctured tire!

(It's really a tyre you know, but we'll not quibble about it now.)

A call to my husband brought out the Knight in Shining Armour in him and in minutes he came galloping on his trusty steed (okay, he trundled along in his ten year old Ford Ranger. Whatever.) and he rescued this Damsel in Distress.

(How is it that men know exactly where the jack is, how to get the spare out and can heft a Ford Expedition off the ground to change a tyre tire in a jiffy?) (I didn't even know where the spare was! Oh yeah, I'm such a self sufficient modern woman, huh?)

Pleased with his stellar job and proud of his Super Dad status, hubs said goodbye to the kids and I and we started up our respective vehicles.


I attempted to start up mine but the heap of junk, car wouldn't co-operate. Thankfully hubs witnessed the car in all it's petulance and trundled off in search of jump leads (because you know I'm not smart enough to carry my own, right? - nor him apparently).

He got us started a few minutes later and we were on our way home, on a wing and not a few prayers. My car is 5 years old and has very low miles - it's not a clunker by any means, but it sure felt like it today.

Diagnosis on inspection this evening is I needed a new battery and the tire can't be fixed.

NO!!! My punctured wallet!

Please let this be it for now - my husband is going to Ireland next week for a week. I don't know any more Knights to call in his absence!


Iota said...

How rude of that woman! I'm sure she was just talking about the red hair.

I have changed 2 wheels in my life - both times I felt ridiculously proud of myself, and full of achievement.

Vicky said...

Why is he going to Ireland?
what a shit day.

wakeupandsmellthecoffee said...

People always say to my husband that our kids must take after me. He just laughs and says they do. I hope your spate of bad car karma has come to an end.

anymommy said...

Ouch. That's a lot of punctures for one day. And that woman needs to think before she speaks, although I do get the same, and they usually mean my son's red hair.

Haasiegirl said...
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Anonymous said...

Tomorrow can only be better! And you reminded me that it's time to learn how to change a flat tire! One of these days, this Damsel in Distress is going to be doomed!!

lady macleod said...

A true tale of woe! Oh, with the hair - at 59 years I'm still getting comments on my red hair! It's not you doll.

dancing_lemur said...

Hi Annie! I was looking for a way to email you but have been unsuccessful. Thank you for your comment on my Ireland post, and yes--definitely a small world! Would love to hear from can email me at dancing_lemur [at] great-little-stories [dot] com.

::Sylvia:: said...

Congratulations! You won our giveaway! Stop by Blissfully Domestic today!! :)

::Sylvia:: said...

Hey there Annie! I'm getting ready to post another giveaway on Blissfully Domestic and I just realized I still don't have your address! Can you email it to Sylvia{at}BlissfullyDomestic{dot}com? I thought I remembered receiving it but can't find it anywhere! :) Thanks so much!

Anonymous said...
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