I saw a text message from my wife that she had sent two hours earlier, right before I left work.
She said she was with her sister over in Portland and would be home when the sister dropped her off.
I have been working my ass off all damn week and something didn't sound right because she was supposed to drop her kid off over there earlier in the afternoon.
I figured the sister must have showed up and they all went in one car.
No big deal, I was freaking tired and my brain wasn't firing on all cylinders anyway.
I get home later and her car ain't in the driveway.
Now I am wondering what the fuck is going on.
I came in to find one of the cats had been locked in the bathroom while they were gone and shit all over the rug just to show her displeasure.
Needless to say I ain't real happy about that.
So I finally kick back in the old recliner and start relaxing.
Nobody is here and that motherfucking television isn't on for once.
Nirvana baby.
Checkin' the Emails, checking the comments, checking out whats going on in the world.... and it's quiet.
Of course this is short lived just like I knew it would be.
Pretty soon the door opens and her and both sisters and her oldest boy come piling in, mouths going full blast.
She asks me if I got her text message.
I said yeah, a few minutes before I left work.
"Well, what are we going to do about it?"
About what.
"The car".
What about the fucking car.
"You said you got my text, it's broke down over in Portland, I think the timing belt went out, it just quit like it did the last time that happened"
WHAT?!!
Fuck me, I'm digging out my phone and checking the messages.
Sure as shit, she had sent me two and I only saw the last one.
She says she didn't know what to do so she called her sister, who was only a few blocks away, Thank God, and they pushed in onto a side street.
Remember that Mall shooting at Clackamas Town Center a couple years ago?
It's right across the street from that motherfucker, in another State.
She apparently couldn't figure out that the phone she was texting me with actually makes phone calls.
Like to 411, for Information, to get a number, to call a fucking tow truck.
Or maybe, just maybe, to actually CALL ME, instead of fucking texting me at work, where the usual noise level is right at ninety decibels in some places.
My phone chirps once for a text message.
It rings and is on vibrate both, for phone calls.
So now I get to get up and go see if the fucking thing is actually still there tomorrow.
If it is, then I can call a tow truck and have it towed twenty miles for a small fortune.
if it's not there, then I will have to track it down and pay a large fortune to get the miserable cocksucker out of impound, THEN pay ANOTHER small fortune, to have it dragged over here.
THEN, I get to figure out what's wrong with the miserable sonofabitch and spend my weekend wrenching on the cocksucker. This will be shortly after I move a shit ton of my stuff out of the way so I can get it in the garage.
Oh. Joy..
I can't fucking wait.
I may just get the damn thing running just enough to yank it out.
Makes it easier to work on that way.
3 comments:
If it has tits or wheels, your gonna have problems with it...
First of all Siddhartha Priest, you can bite me! And husband, I don't like to call you at work unless it's an emergency, which it wasn't. And I wanted you to look at it first to make sure we needed a tow before wasting money on one we may not need so you can bite me too!
I texted you just to let you know what was going on since I knew you weren't able to look at it till the next morning anyway. So Suck it!
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