I Am Woman! Here Me… Meow?

If I’m completely honest with myself, I will admit that there are certain things about being married that I definitely miss. Don’t misunderstand- I do not miss HIM at all- but there were certain things that I didn’t have to do when the ex was still the hubby. Almost a year and a half later, I still scramble to get them done- and that’s assuming I even know how.
 
For example, I hate lightbulbs. Especially lightbulbs that are covered by cute little light fixtures that need dismantling in order to change them.In the eight years I was married, I cannot recall one time that I had to change a lightbulb. 

So the other day, I’m dropping my oldest daughter off at school. I’m reminding her about her lunch money, who’s picking her up after school, what we have planned for the weekend… all the while sipping on my coffee, talking on my cell phone, and trying to convince my 2 year old (who’s sitting in the back) to stop kicking my chair. My oldest daughter is successful in getting out of the car, and as I’m pulling off, mommy dearest (that’s me) slams into the curb.
Wonderful.
From that point on, my car doesn’t drive right- I’m sure I need an alignment (don’t know what the hell that is, but I’ve heard the term used in situations like this- I figure my car is now a candidate). If I want to drive straight I have to cock the wheel to the right a little… and when I’m moving, the car shakes a lot.Whatever- it still drives, right?
Yet another thing that goes on the list of shit to be dealt with… eventually.So one morning (Saturday) while the kids are at their dad’s house, another one of my friends call me. Seems he hurt his leg while working out, and can’t even move it enough to drive. He needs to get to the bank before noon, and wants to know if I’ll give him a ride. Of course I will. 

I’m a great friend, by the way.
So off I go, and pick him up. As we’re driving, he tells me my car’s riding funny. Well, duh. I cheerfully explain what happened at my daughter’s school, with the curb. I even told him that I am certain I need an alignment (didn’t share that I don’t even know what that is. That, folks, stays between us).
He disagrees. I apparently don’t need an alignment. Instead, I seem to have something (and I’m positive this is a technical term) called a “titty” in my tire.Well what the hell does he know? He’s just a man. Plus, he can’t move his leg. Clearly, he’s not that smart anyway.So I roll my eyes, tell him to shut up, take him to the bank, then drop him back off at his place. He leaves me with this warning- “not only do you have a titty in that tire- but it’s bald. The threads are showing. You need a new tire, otherwise you’re going to have a blow out”.I figure, what the hell does he know? I’ve already diagnosed the problem. It is not a titty. That’s a female body part, not a car issue. MY problem is that I need an alignment. Silly man.
So I head home, case closed. Or so I thought.When I got home, I couldn’t get the term “titty” out of my head… so to aleviate my fears, I take a peek at my tire.OMG, there are THREADS- little silver ones- poking out! Dammit, that can’t be good, right? I reluctantly realize, my friend is right.

Where the hell’s my friends when I need them?? I hop in my car, as clearly, the only responsible thing to do is to get a brand new tire, right?

I took my butt to the tire place (and don’t you worry, folks- I was MORE than prepared for those jerks to tell my I need to top off my blinker fluid. They try to screw me, on account of my being female. Little did they know, I JUST had my blinker fluid topped off at my last oil change. My turn signals were working just fine, thank you (hee hee)) and had my tire changed. The difference was miraculous. Seriously. When I got in my car, it drove BEAUTIFULLY!! Who knew that the problem is actually a titty?!?! I don’t need an alignment after all (whatever that is)!!

So I drive home, very proud. I don’t need no stinkin’ man. I can get a new tire all by my self, thank you very much!

I AM WOMAN!! HEAR ME ROAR!!

Once home, I walk inside my house, check my e-mail, and lay down on the couch for the Law and Order: SVU marathon.

I’ve had a long day- having major work done on my car, and all- so I promptly fall asleep.

BANG, BANG, BANG on my sliding glass door is what wakes me up. I jump off the couch… “what the…???”

Standing outside my door is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m not kiddin’ y’all. This man is gorgeous. Sucks for me, because I’m in sweatpants- and I have chicken hair, on account of I’ve been snoozin’ on my couch for the last 2 hours.

I answer the door, very curious as to what this magnificent specimen could want with me…

“Hey lady… just thought you should know- your car’s been runnin’ an awfully long time”
OMG.

“I saw you when you pulled up- thought you must be comin’ right back out… but it’s been awhile, and your car’s still runnin'”.

I left my car running- in my own parking lot- for two hours.

I quit. I’m gettin’ married again.

 

 

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