Monday I went up to Kenosha to meet with my mom’s insurance agent regarding my dad’s IRA and other accounts. After the meeting, Mom, my sister, her husband and I went to dinner, then came back to the house.
Mom and I talked for a while after Beth and Geoff left, and I got ready to leave.
I got in my car, turned it on, began backing out of the driveway, and immediately noticed something wrong.
A flat tire.
God. Damn. It.
So I pulled the car back in, opened the trunk, got out the jack and the donut tire, and started jacking up the car.
I got all the bolts off except the last one.
Which I promptly broke off.
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
So then I tried to take the old tire off.
It wouldn’t come off.
I rang my mom’s doorbell, and when she answered, said, “Guess what?”
Talk about a string of bad luck.
I spent the night at my Mom’s. The next morning we called a towing service. They arrived an hour or so later and got the tire off, and put on the spare. We drove the car to the service station and Mom drove me home to wait for the car to be repaired.
All this after I told work that I would come back on Tuesday instead of Wednesday because I didn’t want to take another day off.
I did finally get to work– at about 3pm or so. But I gotta tell ya folks. If this string of bad luck doesn’t end soon, I don’t know what I’ll do.
Pray for me that it’s over. I can’t take anything else going wrong.
(**knock on wood**)