Are You There, God, Well Leave Me Alone

The gods are conspiring against me. And I feel like I’m living that Rembrandt’s song, you know the one, the Friend’s theme song. “When it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month, or even your year…”

Somehow another of those days rolled around yesterday bringing with it such wondrous experiences as:

Underestimating how long it would take at the grocery store so that the groceries had to sit in the trunk of the car during my noontime doctor’s appointment. At least there wasn’t any ice cream, although there were meat, eggs, butter, milk, etc.

Remembering after unpacking the groceries that I hadn’t eaten lunch and that the piano teacher was coming tonight. Since she really helped out last week on my day trip to New York City, I needed to buy a card.

Realizing after stopping at the bank, the card store, and McDonald’s that the car needed gas.

Misjudging the driveway curb on the way into the gas station so that on closer inspection while gassing up I discovered the front passenger tire was flat with a huge gash from where the curb cut into it.

Finding out that the owner’s manual wasn’t in the glove compartment so I had no way of knowing how to loosen the jack from its housing in the trunk.

Phoning everyone I knew to call for help and finding no one available so that I considered driving home with a pancake tire.

Eating my cold McDonald's lunch in the car while waiting for help. (Already after 3:00 by now.)

Having my husband (finally off his client call) bring the manual and actually help change the tire so that I didn’t have to pay a tow truck.

Seeing that the spare tire was flat and that the gas station where I was didn’t have an air pump.

Driving ever so carefully and slowly across the six-point intersection to a gas station with an air pump so that I could make it home.

Hearing from my second daughter when I was almost home that she wanted a ride home because she cleaned out her locker today.

Arriving home with the need for a good cry, a long soak in the Jacuzzi, a bourbon, or a combination of any or all of the aforementioned.

As one friend told me, this is God’s retribution for leaving my home state. I always knew my home state was God’s country, but this is ridiculous.