Josh has been gone for less than 36 hours and I’ve already had a minor medical procedure and our only car started steaming and gushing fluids and is now at a random mechanic whose location I had to ‘pin’ on the map on my phone and take a photo of the storefront so I could hopefully find my way back someday to retrieve my car.
I had been out with a friend at a park about 5 minutes from our house and on the drive home the AC started blowing HOT, but we didn’t realize how HOT until we rolled down the windows and the 90-something muggy air felt like a cool island breeze against sweat beads that had formed on my forehead and upper lip. I had been concentrating so hard on not getting hit by random left turners, that I hadn’t noticed until our flesh started cooking. At least we were only 2 blocks from home, but I pulled in to see a trail of fluids behind me and a greasy puddle forming under the car. Of course we had just had the car checked over the day before Josh left, but whatever. That’s never how it works.
So I frantically called “our guy” because Thursday at noon means that it has to be looked at NOW because Friday is Holy Day and nothing happens then. And I have a houseful of kids that need to be carted to 87 different places over the next two days . . . he was busy with three cars, but said if I could meet him immediately he’d take me over to a “friend” who could do the work.
He might be the friend. I’m not sure who is in charge.
I was a little afraid that if I drove the car, it would further damage it, but it sounded OK and it’s an old car anyway and I didn’t have a lot of choices at that moment. As I was following Gollum (seriously, that is my mechanic’s name and yes, I always hear “my precious” in my head when I say it) right, left, right, roundabout, left, I was wondering how far we were going and if I was going to attempt to walk home or catch a cab because I was pretty sure this wasn’t a quick fix.
We got there and the engine was steaming and hissing and what I got out of the bits of conversation was something about my radiator needing to be washed, or maybe welded? Something about the lining inside being bad. And also something about a hose inside that big block that I’m guessing is the engine and maybe that the radiator is leaking into the engine? Not sure, don’t really care. It was bound to be something. Last time he left it was the battery. We’re just upping the ante until I break.
Awesome.
So that’s that. I left my car with people I don’t know and my mechanic is going to call me at 5pm (never mind that it’s now 7pm) to pick it up. After living here this long I knew that wasn’t going to happen so I had already been making mental plans of how to get various kids where they need to go tomorrow without wheels. On the bright side/nice side, Gollum (my precious) drove me home so I didn’t have to figure out that part of my transportation puzzle. And as I was standing there at the shop having asked how much it would cost, thinking, “White girl, you are totally going to get screwed” they came back with a number that was approximately $50, so that was surprisingly pleasant. Of course it will be a $50 quality of repair, but if it lasts 2 weeks until Josh comes home, I’ll be happy.
As far as my surgical procedure — that was planned before I knew when Josh was leaving. When I found out it was the same day I thought, “Well, maybe he’ll be able to watch Camille since it’s first thing in the morning.” Nope, then I found out I had to get up at 2am to take him to work, then go home and see the kids off to school (and farm out the baby), before rushing off to the base clinic to be there by 7:30.
It wasn’t a big deal. Every 5 years I get a bug up my butt about my skin and head to the doc to get a mole removed and reassurance that I don’t have skin cancer growing on the surface of my body. Oh, that’s more than you wanted to know? Oh well. That’s what’s on my mind today as I finger the itchy surgical tape on my back and feel the prickle of stitches underneath. Currently my rogue mole is being whisked away to Italy to undergo testing that will hopefully find normal skin cells that were just wearing an ugly costume.
I wasn’t going to post a photo, but thought I might as well share the beauty. And in case you are like my sister, no, I don’t have a fat arm, that is my back. I also think I might be allergic to surgical tape.
The best part of this entire story is I was going in to have this mole removed because it had gotten red and painful. It was next to two other moles. This morning after the redness went away I realized she removed a different mole than the one I was worried about. Please laugh because I think it’s hysterical. I’m calling it God’s Providence and it will probably come back cancerous and then we’ll all call it a miracle instead of malpractice. Either way, it’s one less ticking time bomb that I have to worry about.
No joke — just as I was writing that last sentence, Carter started screaming, “Mom, come here immediately!” Fortunately no one had died, though my heart doesn’t quite believe that yet, but to his credit it was an emergency of sorts. A poop emergency. Camille had pooped in her diaper and then taken it off in the living room and was trying to wipe herself. As I came racing down the stairs I see the dog tearing into the poopy diaper as if he were invited to a buffet, and Camille wiping the poop off of her hands onto her nightgown. So yeah, typical day when Dad is out of the country.
So that you’re not left with that image, here’s one of Carter and his friend showing off their medals for completing the mile swim. Back when life was still normal and Dad was still local.
