Talk About a Domino Effect

Based on the series of events that unfolded throughout my day, I can tell you that I’m a new believer in voodoo.  Yeah, um I totally must have cut someone off in traffic.  Or taken the last loaf of whole grain bread.  Maybe it was that telemarketer I hung up on last week.  Whatever it was, all I can say is that I obviously ticked off some freaky black eye-lined voodoo master at some point and she chose today to seek revenge.

You all saw that tire this morning.

If I were to go back to the beginning though I’d have to tell you that I got out of bed thirty minutes early this morning so as to have time to properly dress for an early morning meeting with the principal of little Miss Redhead’s school.  That’s another post entirely but let’s just say that young Kennedy was not-so-discreetly thrilled at the sight of the flat tire this morning.

Ahem.

Moving right along.

So I called the principal to let him know not to be expecting us anytime soon.  And then I called Jeff at work and whined like a baby until he agreed to come home and fix the tire so that I could put on my school bus driver hat for the day.

On the subject of my husband fixing the flat I’d be remiss if I didn’t admit that when I opened the garage door and saw him kneeled down at the tire, still dressed in his work clothes (having put on an old Army PT jacket to protect his collared shirt from grease stains) I may have become suddenly flushed.

Seriously.  How hot is it that my rocket scientist husband can also repair a flat?

So anyway, he patched the tire and headed back to work.  He did not pass go.  Nor did he collect $200.  Not that I would have put up much of a fight had he tried to.

Sorry Mom.

Anyway…

I was happy that my day was back on track and I gathered my purse and Jayce so that we could head into town to pick up a prescription.

And had it worked out that way my story would end here.

But you, my dear reader, know better than that now don’t you?

When I turned the key in the ignition all I heard was that telltale clicking noise.

By telltale I of course mean that it was not a good sound.  Because being the auto-clueless woman I am I really couldn’t have diagnosed anything based on that clicking sound.

So guess who got another call at work?

Apparently the air compressor filled the tire but drained the battery.

So off to the neighbor I go, like a damsel in distress, begging for mercy.

He had me up and running in no time.

And again, I thought things were back in shape.

I even managed to get Jayce fed and down for his nap on time.

Score! 

I tend to use those precious two naptime hours blogging managing household affairs and surfing the internet tying up loose ends laundry and dishes wise.

I logged onto my trusty laptop in search of an eye doctor for Jeff and I.  I was almost there when what Jeff calls ‘the blue screen of death’ popped up on my screen.

My eyes scrolled through the techie lingo but all I could focus on was the phrase ‘dumping blah blah blah memory.’

NO!  NO, NO, NO!  THERE WILL BE NO DUMPING OF MY MEMORY!  DOYOUUNDERSTANDME?!  NO DUMPING!

Apparently my laptop and I don’t speak the same language because it proceeded to dump the entire contents of my virtual life into an unknown electronic abyss.

Splendid.

Apparently it will be awhile before I have use of my computer again.  So please forgive me for not responding to emails.  Seeing as how I cannot read them in the first place.  GRRR.

Oh.  And the cherry on this sundae of a day?  I had a dentist appointment this afternoon.  Apparently the root canal I’ve had done, and re-done, is still not right.  And the un-rightness of it has left me with what appears on x-ray to be a brewing underground infection.

Awesome.

So.  Who can recommend a good witch doctor?