I’m currently at the tire store having my tires checked. We’ve had a very interesting tire season. In June we had nails/screws in tires twice in the van and once in the truck - one of which occurred while we were on vacation. The van’s tires were repairable, but we had to buy four new tires for the truck (they were due anyway, we were just trying to hold off until fall).
Then on Monday of this week, Nicky left in the Jeep, and his tire fell apart.
Luckily he was very close to home. But we had to buy four more tires. This, too, was anticipated, but we were hoping to wait until fall.
Why fall? I don’t know! That’s just when Scotty finally gets around to doing tire stuff. In the division of his & her responsibilities, I’m happy to let him do the car stuff, but usually it takes a deadly snow storm to get him going on the tire situation. You know how every family has their own weird culture? One of our things is that we “wait until fall” to buy new tires (which actually means the middle of winter) unless we are forced. This summer, we have been forced.
It may sound like I’m complaining, but I’m not. Mostly I’m just laughing inside and thinking, “What the heck?” I promise, I’ll take flat tires over many of the other possible problems life could throw my way. It’s just starting to feel too contrived at this point. Am I part of an elaborate practical joke?
Anyway, I've been here long enough that I've found myself in the following awkward situation:
I need to go to the bathroom. But I'm worried that if I do, they'll call my name. I'm also worried that someone will steal my seat. I have the best one! All the other seats are in the sun. As I'm sitting here worrying about going to the bathroom, I'm also calculating how many times I could have gone potty, and they haven't called my name. What am I at now? Eight? Ten? So I should have just gone when I got the initial urge. But every moment I delay is a moment closer to them calling my name.
Fast-forward ten minutes...
I went to the bathroom, and I was so fast! Like, so fast. And when I came out, another customer said, "Are you Scotty?" I was confused because A) I am not Scotty and B) Why is a customer asking me if I'm Scotty? Turns out, they had the van under Scotty's name in the computer, the employee came in and called out Scotty's name while I was in the bathroom (as I feared), and then he just went back in the bay. So I had to go wandering around trying to find whoever had my keys. Luckily the other customer gave me a head's up because it didn't seem like anyone was going to come back in to find me!
Awkward!
Here are some other awkward situations that have been brought to my attention as of late:
When you you walk past three people and say 'Good morning' before you figure out what’s wrong with your vision on your daily walk.
When garbage from your food order blows away, and you can't catch it, and it has your name on it, so now you're a litterer, and everyone will know who the responsibly party is!
When you are right-handed, and you try to use your left hand to insert your debit card at the McDonald's window.
When the McDonald's employee watches you struggle and then says, "You know, you could just use Tap!"
When you try to use Tap, but you're never sure if you're placing your card in the right spot.
Anytime you have to use the word "cervical." How is this even a thing that the neck and the cervix share this word? If I were to tell you that I lay on a cervical pillow for 30 minutes everyday, what would you think I was doing?
When you leave a butt print in the grass, and it shows every little detail. And it's huge.
When you attend a party hosted by your non-alcohol-drinking Church, and the person in charge of music is blasting, “Two Pina Coladas” by Garth Brooks.
When you see a missionary with a mullet and you think, “I didn’t know missionaries could have mullets!” but then you realize he doesn’t really have a mullet, he just went out in public after sleeping on his head funny and very clearly didn’t groom himself.
When audiobook narrators pronounce words incorrectly.
When horses lay down.
When you hear the non-radio-edit version of a song for the first time and discover that it says b*tch, and you’re shocked and upset about it because you wouldn’t have expected it from this group, and you listen to it twice to make sure, and then you go ask your husband if he knew they said b*tch, and he says no, and then you Google the lyrics, and they actually don’t say b*tch. You just hear scandalous language where there is none!
