Blowout in the ice

Last night I came home from a long day of teaching and meetings and running my daughter around to the relief of my warm house. I walked in the door thinking This is it. I’m staying in tonight. Zeke was at a ball game at her school and was scheduled to be dropped off by her dad in a couple of hours, so I sat down with a big cup of tea to work on my Victorian literature class (I haven’t taught it in about a decade, so I’m a bit rusty!)

When my friend called to invite me over, I suggested he come visit me. “I’m not going out again tonight,” I told him. “It’s too bloody cold. And I’m tired.”

Right. Two hours later, Zeke arrived home and asked if her friend could spend the night. I said sure. I love that particular friend and it’s been a while since I’ve seen her. “I knew it,” Zeke said. “She’s already on her way.” (Typical Zeke move.)

Not more than three minutes later the phone rang. It was Biatris’s mother. She’d run over something on the freeway and blown out two tires. So off I went into the frigid night, despite all my promises to myself! I picked up the kids and brought them home, Biatris in her skimpy cheerleading uniform, her teeth chattering, and then went back to help Biatris’ mother figure out what to do with the car. In the end we left it and this morning I picked her up and took her to work at 5:00, then came home and when the tire shops opened I called them for estimates. Now I have to go meet the tow truck and get the car into the tire shop for new tires. Thank goodness it’s Saturday, and a light Saturday, and I was just planning on sitting around and relaxing for most of the day anyway. (Doesn’t happen often!)

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