No Shoes, No Contacts, No Problem

Can anyone besides that guy Murphy explain why, on the one day I call in sick to work when I'm not really sick, that is the one day I forget that the dogs have to be at the groomer by 8am. I mean I have to get to the groomer. I had to make that appointment two months in advance in order to get them an appointment and they have a strict policy, you must be there by eight. Or, there are consequences, financial consequences. Not to mention, I could lose my place in the priority line for which I have worked very hard to move up on. I look at the clock it is 7:45. I realize I have to get them to the groomer within the next 15 minutes or those consequences will be invoked. So I make what turns out to be a fateful decision. Even though I am in pajamas, I convince myself that they could pass as sweats. No one is going to see me anyway. Oh, except the groomer, but hey she isn't exactly so easy on the eyes. I jump in the car with the dogs. My hair is on fire, I don't have my contacts in and I don't have my glasses. And oh, I forgot my shoes. Whatever, quick shot to the groomer and back. What could happen?

Imagine a just woken up woman in her pajamas, hair on fire, can only see large blurry objects and am driving without shoes on. I am painting a not very pretty picture, that's the point. Maybe I am still asleep. I lower the windows a little so the dogs can enjoy the breeze. Then I realize that unbelievably my car is on E as in empty. Not just E, but below E. I will have to stop at the gas station. The clock is ticking. No problem, I think to myself. I will quick pump some gas before anyone can see me. As you know, a woman's worst nightmare is having anyone I know see me in this state of fright, but worse, the possibility of seeing a coworker in this state of fright. Oh wait, that could bode well for my looking sick, even though, I am playing hooky from work. Oh, I have no idea what the worst possibility could be, absolutely, no idea.

The first problem is I park too close to the pump. If I try to open my door, it is going to hit that concrete post. I am going to have to try again -- As I am starting the car in order to move it back a bit, I am wishing I had shoes as that ground looked gross. But, the car wasn't starting. No, there was just a clicking sound. Over and over, click, click, and click. It took a moment to sink in that distinctive sound was proof my battery is dead! Whaddya mean you aren't going to start? I wasn't expecting the car to answer. I was venting. Usually when frustrated, the whaddya mean comes out. This is a recurring problem. Whaddya mean you won't start? Whaddya think I'm supposed to do now? This is when silently or out loud I don't remember, I cussed at the car. I really cussed at the car, not myself, because I have two dogs that have to be at the groomer but are stuck in a car in warm weather. Dressed in pajamas and shoeless with hair on fire is not a good time to have to see people, whether it's the car club or any of the customers at this very busy gas station.

Okay, I have passed from the whaddya mean phase and moved on the simma down phase. Simma down, simma down now. I use this phrase to calm me down, not just me but others as well, when they need simmering. It works, try it. Make sure you sue the slang version, simma down now! Now that I am simmering, I will call the car club. They will send me a jump and get me on my way. We will have to plead with the groomer about being late. But, once that is done, I can slide back into bed. Ahhh, yes simmering down has me problem solving myself right back to the warm comfy bed at home.

I got out my car club card and my phone. However, I couldn't read the number on the card. No contacts, no glasses. I have to walk up to the guy pumping gas next to me and ask him to help me. Question, if a woman approached you at a gas station wearing pajamas with no shoes and her hair on fire, you would help her, wouldn't you? When I explained how I had called in sick, left the house in a rush, didn't have my glasses, I saw this look on his face that said, whaddya mean you called in sick, went out in pajamas, no shoes and with your hair on fire. Whaddya mean you are asking me to read the number to you? Whaddya mean you escaped from the crazy house and now your car won't start? Oh yeah, he definitely was in the whaddya mean phase. Nevertheless, he started reading the number. Thanks, I said, hoping he didn't recognize me. After all this was a gas station in my neighborhood.

When the car club customer service representative came on the line, I crawled back into the car in order to hide away, but it was insanely hot in that car. So, I stood leaning against the car, friends and neighbors whizzing by, trying desperately to explain my dilemma. I could not really understand her, but then again I have hearing issues, but evidently, she could not understand me. Trying to tell her my location, I became frustrated. I enunciate Gas station. I am at a gas station. I say it slow, I say it loud. What is the street? She repeats back the street and says you are in Georgia right? NO, no, no, I am in Florida! Ten minutes later and my careful enunciation of each letter of each word of my location finally pays off. She finally understood, or so I thought. Someone should be there within thirty minutes, she says.

Whaddya mean I have to wait thirty minutes? God, I'm hot and so are the dogs. I didn't bring their leashes so I can't get them out of the car. Luckily, as if fated, I had put the windows down before the car died. Otherwise I would be in real trouble. I have to get these dogs some water as these thirty minutes are dragging. So, I put my own vanity aside, one could call this a major sacrifice on my part, if one wanted to. I walk into the store, the look I get is, wow I have never really seen hair on fire like that before, but come on in anyway. We are used to it. Used to it? Whaddya mean you are used to it? Wow, how far have I fallen?

As you know at this point, I haven't got much, but luckily I have money. I open the trunk of the car trying to find something that I can pour water into for the dogs, who are now panting. This is really beginning to feel like a crisis. Again, luckily I never dropped off that bag of stuff to charity. Inside the bag is a plastic bowl. The dogs are going to be alright! I've got the passenger's side door open and I'm sitting on the seat with my feet on the ground, yes that same questionable ground, trying to catch a breeze. A few minutes later a locksmith pulls up. I am thinking, whaddya mean somebody else called a car club because they got locked out? Wait a minute, that car club locksmith is here for me. Whaddya mean they sent me a locksmith and why doesn't he pull over here by me? Clearly, in this gas station it is I who has a car that won't start. Over here, lady with hair on fire needs assistance. Finally, he sees me waving at him and he comes over. Hey, I don't care if you are a locksmith; somehow, someway you are going to help me! The heat and increasing unlucky day has gotten the best of me.

Turns out, he was here for me. They told me you were locked out of your car, he said. No, no, it is my battery, I need a jump. I'm a locksmith, he said. Wow, thank you for that update. Before I could respond, he said, but lucky for you -- lucky for me? Whaddya mean lucky for me? I have jumper cables, he said. He jumped the car, it started right away. He assured me that as long as I did not turn the car off, I could make it to the groomer and then home. I thanked the locksmith for the jumpstart. Multitalented people really do intrigue me.

Off I went, now one and a half hours into my sick day and headed to the groomers, who I only hoped would understand. I made my plea to the groomer. For a moment, the groomer said nothing. I know in her head she was saying, Whaddya mean I am supposed to believe this story? But, she does. There is no fine for me. The dogs are safely at the groomers and the car is still running. That's when I decided,rather than go home to spend my day in bed., I should instead, drive to the auto parts store and get a new battery. I was in problem solving mode. It seemed logical on this not so logical day. I had a plan. I drove to the auto store. And I again, with hair on fire and wearing no shoes talked to the guy behind the counter. Maybe he too sees people like this all the time because he does not so much as give me a second look. You know this particular guy who knows about cars will save your day. But no, not today, not this guy, he will not save my day. He has me turn the car off and then try to start it to determine for sure that my battery is bad. He is the professional after all. I don't question him when he says ok turn the car off, even though I was told NOT to turn the car off. Try to start it, he says. Click. Whaddya mean CLICK? Okay, let's try to jump it, he says. Yes, okay let us try to do that. I think I have just done that but hey let's do it again for kicks. Start my car, get me on my way. Try as he might, my car does not jump. And yes, I am asking myself, whaddya mean it won't jump????? I have to call the dealership to send a tow truck.

While we are waiting, he mentions that perhaps my battery is under warranty. Whaddya mean it could be under warranty? Okay, so maybe this not so smart auto guy has more brains than I gave him credit for. As it turns out, not only was my battery under warranty, but my car dealer sent a tow truck to the auto store to take my car to the dealership where they would install my free battery, for free! Also free, was the lift I got from the tow truck guy towing my car, to my home. I don't think he wanted to take me home. It wasn't really on his way, but he accommodated me. I can only wonder what my neighbor thought as she saw me climb out of that tow truck in my pajamas with no shoes on. Whaddya mean this can be innocently explained? I decided to let her wonder. I had a bed to get to.