This Is Not My Day

This Is Not My Day

The conversation went something like this:

Blossom- This isn’t your day is it?

Aussie- It wouldn’t have anything to do with you hitting me with your car would it?

Blossom- I said I was sorry.

Well excuse me for bleeding! It was just like with when I got hit by my own truck that one time. We were even on the same street, East Street, just the opposite side. Her car should have been euthanized several years ago but since it wasn’t the old Chevrolet has tried to kill itself. She insists upon resuscitating it. At first it was just the rust, the lack of paint (you have to have paint for it to be a bad paint job) and the ever changing bad odor that I would complain about. We’ve added several things to that “should have been put down” along time ago list.

1. only the back windows roll down and they go down half way
2. The passenger side window is covered with plastic. That plastic has holes that have been patched with duct tape. She has so many duct tape violations on that car, just improper use of duct tape alone could get her license revoked.
3. there is no heat
4. and she has a broken head gasket

LET THAT CAR DIE, IT’S THE RIGHT THING TO DO.

The car still runs this way but today it took a turn for the worse. It lost the ability to go in reverse so if she pulls into a parking space she has to be able to pull forward instead of back out. Well, she failed to do this. I get out to push the stupid car back so she could pull up. She sat behind the wheel to steer so as not to hit other cars. Well, when I tried to get back in the car the car rolled forward. I was doing that hop skip type thing with one leg in the car yelling for her to stop driving. She said, I’m sorry. I forgot to take it out of neutral.” When the car stopped I got hit with the open passenger door. Of course she started getting upset because she didn’t put the car in the right gear. Well, hell she should have been. Clearly she is not here right now.

So, I come home and I’m about ready to crash (on my doggie bed) but when I walked in the room where it is it seems one of the cats decided it would best serve as a litter box. So, instead of screaming and cussing I walked out of the room to catch my breath. When I walked back in there was a new spot on the human bed. It wasn’t there when I walked out a moment ago. So I stripped everything and threw it in the washer. I didn’t give it a chance to set. I put both cats in the room with their box because I wasn’t sure which one did it, they were both in there at the same time. Later I figured that it might have been Bella because she was left home with Gracie all night long. It’s the first time I’ve spent the night out and came home the next morning so she might have been a bit anxious and uneasy about that. The thing is, she cried for a long time before it happened. So, I washed everything and laid on the love seat to crash. Officer Mc Bastard called to tell me he was back at work after having been hurt on the job a week ago. He took 27 stitches after being struck by something hanging off the side of a golf cart at the Irish Festival. Okay so I hung up and went to sleep. (I call him Mic or Mic the dick and Mc Bastard because in high school he wanted to be Mickey from The Monkeys. His friends have never let him live it down. He is Irish but that is NOT why I call him Mic.)

I was hoping to go into therapy without some sort of drama this week but that’s not going to happen. Last week was the pit bull incident this week is the Chevy incident. Dear Lord, I say this week but it’s only Monday.

I’m going back to the love seat.

Austin