Yesterday, my day was full. Activities and responsibilities came one after another with little room to spare. Calm down, calm down, I told myself. Just keep moving along and you'll be fine. And, utilizing a rare case of optimism, I took my word for it.
However, Dear Reader, there was the twist. Ah, yes. The Twist*.
All I needed to do was run to the apartments (Surely you will recall, Dear Reader of Mine, the rental tales).I had set a time to show an apartment to an interested would-be renter. Then I would dash back home and leave with that Husband-of-Mine for a dinner date with friends. The restaurant was nearly a half-hour's drive away. I made sure I was quite ready to leave for the dinner date prior to leaving for the apartment showing. Traffic is very heavy in the late afternoon hours, we all know.
Still, I could make it! Appointment to show apartment: 4:00. Dinner: 5:30.
Backing from the driveway I suddenly thought of my phone.
Did I have it? Was it buried in my purse?
I tried searching with one hand (the purse has four zippered pockets; what absurdity) while driving with the other (happy to have two hands, but three or even four could have been subtly suggested to the Creator by Adam, if not Eve, herself).
Speeding up the tale (while slowing the car) I abruptly pulled off the road for a better search. I hit a large rock. I discovered the phone truly was missing. I pulled back onto the road, backed up slowly, nervously, and carefully. I re-entered the driveway, re-entered the house, retrieved my phone, got back on the road. If I sped up ever so slightly, I'd still make it to the apartments by four o'clock.
Except. What was this?! The car was throwing a tantrum, difficult to steer. No, no, I tried to convince myself. It must be my imagination. (Optimism, however, as I continued on down the road, was beginning to seep away like air from a slashed tire). The steering and the noise got ever more disturbing. I crept on, hoping to make the complete four-and-a-half mile drive to the destination before giving up.
Four miles into the drive I got the clear and distinct smell of burnt rubber. BURNT RUBBER! Furthermore, the car began to shake and rattle most fearsomely. I could tell there was something seriously wrong with the right front quadrant. Was the whole wheel coming off the car?
As all sensible drivers would do, I stopped the car (yes, yes, Reader Dear, I know an argument could be made for that thing that you're thinking--sooner would have been better! Truly sensible drivers would have put on the brakes earlier! [ I'm going to just ignore that]) I put on my four-way blinkers. I called the would-be renter to inform him that I was a mere half-mile away, but couldn't be there as scheduled.
...to be continued...
*The candle I've got burning right now is labeled: "Richly Scented Candle. Paperwhite Vanilla". Ahhh...
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