Yesterday was an awesome day. Holiday off work, lunch with friends, happy baby who took a two hour nap. And this morning was off to a great start- even though the baby woke up extra early, he went right back to sleep and let me get another full hour of sleep, too.
Once we got out of bed, the baby and the dog were both cooperative, the morning routine went smoothly and I even managed to get a roast, potatoes and carrots (prepared the night before, of course) into the crockpot for dinner.
The car was loaded. Baby in the car seat, purse, lunch, extra diapers and wipes and clothes for daycare. I was relaxed and happy and ready to start the day, even though I’m not a morning person.
And then, the car wouldn’t start. It made an awful, screechy noise when I tried to start it, and the gauges all freaked out. After five attempts, I gave up. Unloaded the baby and headed for the house, where Dave met me at the door with his keys. Apparently he could hear the awful, screechy noise all the way upstairs. He declared my battery to be dead.
So, off I went to Dave’s giant vehicle. Where the car seat is in the middle of the backseat and I have to literally crawl into and up onto the seat to buckle in the baby. In a skirt, of course, because this would only happen the one time a month I actually wear a skirt to work.
Off we went. Hitting all the red lights and getting stuck behind slow-moving buses and finally arriving at daycare, where I had to crawl into and up onto the back seat to get the baby back out of the car.
Off to work. Just when I’m starting to relax, and tell myself that it’s not a big deal, because I’m late to work every single day and why should today be any different, the “low fuel” light comes on.
Of course it does.
All my good intentions for the day went out the window, and I rewarded myself with a giant Dr. Pepper while filling the gas tank. At least I took the stairs when I got the office.
P.S. The rest of the day was great. I love my job. And that pot roast? A-maz-ing.