Friday was the opposite of fun. It was the anti-fun. It was like fun packed up all his bags and left the country with a suitcase full of simple and easy. It was just one lousy thing after another all culminating in the moment when I walked out of the pharmacy and discovered my car had crapped itself and wouldn’t start. So I’m standing in the 85 degree sun holding a crying baby staring at a car that won’t start and has the “check gauges”, “no oil pressure”, and “urgent problem” lights on…and E is unreachable. His work phone goes to voicemail. His cell phone goes to voicemail. My texts go unanswered. I don’t have the number to his office building.

After trying to feed Baby Evan in the steaming, boiling hot car (WAAAAAH WAAH WAAAAAAAAAH!!!!) and opening the hood and staring blankly at the engine I just pack up the stroller and the baby and head down to the Commissary hoping to find…I don’t know what. Help? A tow truck? Santa Claus? Anything was going to be better than sitting there. Luckily E got out of his meeting and called me back and after we BOTH opened the hood and stared blankly at the engine for a few minutes we finally called a repair place. The repair guy suggested that before we pay for a tow and a checkup we just try jump starting it. Ok but we don’t think it’s the battery, I mean, the radio works and this oil gauge looks pretty serious. Guess what, it worked. Our real problem is that I know NOTHING about cars and E knows just enough to imagine thousands of dollars in repair and hopelessness instead of a $50 battery, so we both freaked out for two hours and exhausted ourselves.

Today was better, although my spray on sunscreen failed to reach my back and now I can’t lean back without wincing in pain. But I have my aloe gel and some Netflix and no plans for the rainy Sunday we’re expecting tomorrow so I’ll be ok. Maybe Baby Evan will decide to sleep all afternoon instead of scream. I can wish.

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