If It Weren't For Bad Luck ...
The litany of bleeps, blunders and minor disasters continues in the Pearson home.
From strep throat to falls down stairs, from double mortgages to triple trouble, the almost comical rash of recent problems has made me ponder the source of the bad-karma tsunami and whether we should have a priest perform an exorcism on our new home.
Yesterday, my wife called at mid-morning to report that her car battery was dead, possibly because she'd left an inside light on all night. She learned of this when she tried to start the car and go to a park to meet another mom and her two kids.
No neighbors were around to give her car a jump, so I advised her to invite the other mom out to our new home and provide a jump source, sort of killing two stones with one bird, etc.
Subsequently, the car would not jump, and by this time our new neighbor, a retired guy whom I'm beginning to think is the right hand of God, due to willingness to help us with problems with the new home (and he lets me use his awesome riding lawnmower), jumped in to help.
However, he quickly determined that the battery had gone to motor-vehicle heaven.
The emergency falls in my lap, and that means buying a battery and driving all the way out to the country install it. My wife needs the car because she has to go to work, and she has to work (she does child care at our church, among other things) because we have two mortgages and gotten smacked with a lot of surprise bills in the past month, such as the ones for treating all the strepped-up throats. (I was the only one who didn't catch it. Oops, I shouldn't have written that ... AAAAHHH!!!)
I drive all the way out there and put in the new battery. The car alarm - which has been an intermittent problem in the past - then starts going off and will not shut down. This disables our ability to start the car.
It's 95 degrees and 100 percent humidity, and I'm out there in my dress shirt and tie, sweating enough to fill a small pool and cussing up a hurricane, because all of this is just more craptastic icing on the poopcake that is our lives right now.
The kids are whining and getting all up under my feet, the car alarm is blaring and I'm trying to sort through the chaos for any kind of solution.
The Right Hand of God can't figure out what to do, and I'm about ready to just set the car on fire and collect the insurance.
However, my wife needs the car to get to work, and I'm going out of town on a fishing trip tomorrow. In addition, I was scheduled to meet a Boy Scout and his father in my office at 2 p.m. so he could ask me questions about newspapering and get his journalism merit badge.
We needed this &^%$#@!! car to work.
I go inside, get the phone book and call the first car alarm place on the list. I'm not thinking this is going to work, because, as everybody knows, nothing like this ever works, particularly for us.
Of course, I get some guy with a thick accent, and I can't understand half of what he's saying, but finally he speaks slowly, and he tells me there should be some kind of button under the dashboard. I will need to hold down this button and then start the car.
And, by cracky, I found that button, and the car started right up.
So I burned $70 for the battery, a gallon of gas and my lunch hour, which I'd planned on using at the gym to burn off stress.
Nevertheless, it was a blessing that the battery died at home, and we also gained valuable knowledge on how to turn off that %$#@!! car alarm the next time it goes off and buggers up the car's ability to start.
Priceless.
From strep throat to falls down stairs, from double mortgages to triple trouble, the almost comical rash of recent problems has made me ponder the source of the bad-karma tsunami and whether we should have a priest perform an exorcism on our new home.
Yesterday, my wife called at mid-morning to report that her car battery was dead, possibly because she'd left an inside light on all night. She learned of this when she tried to start the car and go to a park to meet another mom and her two kids.
No neighbors were around to give her car a jump, so I advised her to invite the other mom out to our new home and provide a jump source, sort of killing two stones with one bird, etc.
Subsequently, the car would not jump, and by this time our new neighbor, a retired guy whom I'm beginning to think is the right hand of God, due to willingness to help us with problems with the new home (and he lets me use his awesome riding lawnmower), jumped in to help.
However, he quickly determined that the battery had gone to motor-vehicle heaven.
The emergency falls in my lap, and that means buying a battery and driving all the way out to the country install it. My wife needs the car because she has to go to work, and she has to work (she does child care at our church, among other things) because we have two mortgages and gotten smacked with a lot of surprise bills in the past month, such as the ones for treating all the strepped-up throats. (I was the only one who didn't catch it. Oops, I shouldn't have written that ... AAAAHHH!!!)
I drive all the way out there and put in the new battery. The car alarm - which has been an intermittent problem in the past - then starts going off and will not shut down. This disables our ability to start the car.
It's 95 degrees and 100 percent humidity, and I'm out there in my dress shirt and tie, sweating enough to fill a small pool and cussing up a hurricane, because all of this is just more craptastic icing on the poopcake that is our lives right now.
The kids are whining and getting all up under my feet, the car alarm is blaring and I'm trying to sort through the chaos for any kind of solution.
The Right Hand of God can't figure out what to do, and I'm about ready to just set the car on fire and collect the insurance.
However, my wife needs the car to get to work, and I'm going out of town on a fishing trip tomorrow. In addition, I was scheduled to meet a Boy Scout and his father in my office at 2 p.m. so he could ask me questions about newspapering and get his journalism merit badge.
We needed this &^%$#@!! car to work.
I go inside, get the phone book and call the first car alarm place on the list. I'm not thinking this is going to work, because, as everybody knows, nothing like this ever works, particularly for us.
Of course, I get some guy with a thick accent, and I can't understand half of what he's saying, but finally he speaks slowly, and he tells me there should be some kind of button under the dashboard. I will need to hold down this button and then start the car.
And, by cracky, I found that button, and the car started right up.
So I burned $70 for the battery, a gallon of gas and my lunch hour, which I'd planned on using at the gym to burn off stress.
Nevertheless, it was a blessing that the battery died at home, and we also gained valuable knowledge on how to turn off that %$#@!! car alarm the next time it goes off and buggers up the car's ability to start.
Priceless.
posted by Brian Pearson at 5:13 PM
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