Ugh!!
I know fall doesn't "officially" start until September 20-something, but in my neck of the woods (and theemmer can agree to this), fall starts right after Labor Day. The state fair is done, the kids go back to school (okay, my students have been in school for a month, but they're the exception around here) and the snowshovels start showing up on store shelves (there's a tongue-twister!).
So, whatever deity decided today had to be 90+ degree day better have a good explanation. That's not fall weather - I thought I was done sweating to death on my hellish commute.
Of course, I wasn't driving my car, either. Dad is an auto mechanic - that's his career - and yes, he fixes the family cars. I joke that our cars get fixed when they no longer move (or, in the case of needing brakes, they won't stop moving). Well, Brother C's car has needed some work for a few weeks - he's been borrowing mine on the weekends and whatever was wrong finally got bad enough that Dad said his car stays at the shop. That meant I get to take Dad's car to and from work. (Dad gets to use the truck he has for hauling scrap for the business for his errands.) So, it was a car-hop/swap weekend.
Today, Brother C texts me: my car had a flat tire - flat as a pancake. Great. This tire had a slow leak for the longest time, but it's flat. Okay, fine. I'll go to his place, swap cars for the evening and get mine fixed - patch the tire if they can or get a new tire. I can handle this - Walmart knows not to mess with me. (There are still places out there where the words "woman" and "car" equal "dumb" - that's not me.)
Driving to Walmart, I realize I left my wallet in Dad's car at Brother C's place. Call C and he confirms it's there. Okay, fine. I have some cash on me, I should still have enough to get the tire fixed. This is okay - not great, but okay.
Get the car to Walmart (after sweating - neither my car nor Dad's has A/C), tell them what I need, they plug the info into the system and come back to tell me they can't do the work I want them to, because the tires I have on there aren't the right size tires for the car and their policy is that they can't just replace it with the same size, but they have to put the correct size on and they don't have any. Okay, fine. Makes sense. That's understandable. I'll just talk to Dad to figure out plan B.
Leaving Walmart, I'm reading the paperwork . . . and realize they had the info on the WRONG vehicle. Irked just a bit, I go back in and correct them. Now, they can help me - they have the tire and that's what the vehicle is supposed to have. Great. New problem: I'm short cash. Uh . . . DAD!!! Huge thanks to Dad for running extra cash out to me! 90 minutes later, the tire's fixed and I'm leaving, feeling thoroughly unclean because I'm soaked in sweat and utterly starving.
I'm not even going to talk about school, other than to say that the computers are back, but not entirely back. I don't quite understand it, but it wasn't something I wanted to tackle at the end of the school day. I'll tackle it tomorrow.
So, that's my day.
So, whatever deity decided today had to be 90+ degree day better have a good explanation. That's not fall weather - I thought I was done sweating to death on my hellish commute.
Of course, I wasn't driving my car, either. Dad is an auto mechanic - that's his career - and yes, he fixes the family cars. I joke that our cars get fixed when they no longer move (or, in the case of needing brakes, they won't stop moving). Well, Brother C's car has needed some work for a few weeks - he's been borrowing mine on the weekends and whatever was wrong finally got bad enough that Dad said his car stays at the shop. That meant I get to take Dad's car to and from work. (Dad gets to use the truck he has for hauling scrap for the business for his errands.) So, it was a car-hop/swap weekend.
Today, Brother C texts me: my car had a flat tire - flat as a pancake. Great. This tire had a slow leak for the longest time, but it's flat. Okay, fine. I'll go to his place, swap cars for the evening and get mine fixed - patch the tire if they can or get a new tire. I can handle this - Walmart knows not to mess with me. (There are still places out there where the words "woman" and "car" equal "dumb" - that's not me.)
Driving to Walmart, I realize I left my wallet in Dad's car at Brother C's place. Call C and he confirms it's there. Okay, fine. I have some cash on me, I should still have enough to get the tire fixed. This is okay - not great, but okay.
Get the car to Walmart (after sweating - neither my car nor Dad's has A/C), tell them what I need, they plug the info into the system and come back to tell me they can't do the work I want them to, because the tires I have on there aren't the right size tires for the car and their policy is that they can't just replace it with the same size, but they have to put the correct size on and they don't have any. Okay, fine. Makes sense. That's understandable. I'll just talk to Dad to figure out plan B.
Leaving Walmart, I'm reading the paperwork . . . and realize they had the info on the WRONG vehicle. Irked just a bit, I go back in and correct them. Now, they can help me - they have the tire and that's what the vehicle is supposed to have. Great. New problem: I'm short cash. Uh . . . DAD!!! Huge thanks to Dad for running extra cash out to me! 90 minutes later, the tire's fixed and I'm leaving, feeling thoroughly unclean because I'm soaked in sweat and utterly starving.
I'm not even going to talk about school, other than to say that the computers are back, but not entirely back. I don't quite understand it, but it wasn't something I wanted to tackle at the end of the school day. I'll tackle it tomorrow.
So, that's my day.