Yesterday I was wasting time on the Internet with a pastime I love…looking at clothes and shoes that I don’t need. But I had a coupon, and free shipping, and damn it, I need a(nother) pair of black boots… So I found a pair and a jacket that I wasn’t looking for and went to check out, but my credit card wouldn’t go through. I tried three time before I figured, well, I guess the gods didn’t want me to purchase these tonight…I’ll try again tomorrow. I sat back to indulge in the season finale (part 1) of Project Runway and called it a night.
Fast forward to this morning. Running late (per usual), I get a flat tire. But I always have a flat tire, so I pump it up…except it’s not pumping. Shit. Text work I’m going to be late. Text my father that, btw, I’ve got a flat. Ok, so everyone who is depending on me in the next hour is informed. Time to get down to business.
So I get out all the stuff to change the tire (including my “car for dummies” photocopy of how to change a tire…yes I’m that anal/prepared…) and I’m doing fine until I get to the damn wheel locks. Yes, those things that prevent the rims from being stolen. Yes, I probably don’t need them, but I have them, so whatever. I can’t get the damn thing off. I am literally hopping up and down on the lug wrench to turn this damn lock, and nothing. Sure, I could call AAA, but I’ve already gotten this far…plus not doing this myself makes me feel like a damsel in distress and I hate being vulnerable and depending on others for things..(yes, probably another(?!) reason I am still single)… but damn it, I will do this myself!
20 minutes later, I’m at the bus stop, defeated. My favorite boots are scuffed, my finger is bleeding and I’m sweating (and we all know how much I love sweating…) Then I get a phone call. My knight in Town & Country armor (my dad) is headed my way, meet him in the parking lot.
Now I’m a little pissed off because I hate when I have to call my dad for things like car problems, hanging shelves, or other household “manly” things, because I pride(?) myself on being independent, and you would think that by age 29, I’d know how to change a tire, put up a (level) shelf and fix a clog. But I have been blessed with a (now present) father who actually cares enough to come and help me out. Now whether that’s because he doesn’t want to hear about it later or not, I’m not sure. But I digress…
And basically everything works out like it always does…the wheel lock comes off (apparently it needed more than my 135 pounds to turn), the donut’s on, and I’m back to work. I find out that I need a new tire, which was coincidentally(?) the same amount of money I was just going to spend on Internet shopping the night before, and I’m sitting there thinking…damn you, signs from the universe!
Because I realize that even though I may feel vulnerable when it comes to things I would rely on say, a boyfriend, to do, I have a father (and family) willing to help me out in the interim. And I was watching Project Runway last night thinking, this guy doesn’t want to go home because his parents think he’s an untalented hack and he’s having a heart wrenching nervous breakdown because there is no one to turn to when he gets home. And I’m thinking…not only do I have a family that is there always when I need them, but I’m damn lucky that I didn’t get those pair of shoes last night…
