While scrolling through my blog recently, I came to the realization that Mountain of Laundry has become little more than a forum for self-deprecation...and an occasional recipe. It appears I chronicle an awful lot of ridiculous episodes -- which would seem to mean that I experience an inordinate number of them. I'd like to think that most everyone has their fair share of foibles and missteps, but seeing them here in print -- big ones like cars attempting to drive themselves through my house and amateur thumb dissection -- go far in making me look like a ditz. And there are plenty of lesser events like running out of gas and showing up to a party a day late or even ruining the aesthetics of a pie by dropping frozen vegetables on it that might indicate that I'm not playing with a full deck.
So as not to confuse or disorient you, fair reader, with a personal triumph or inspirational story, I will continue in my bumbling ways and tell of yet another tale of ineptitude for your entertainment (and self-esteem).
Today I picked up part of a shift and was driving over shortly before 2:00. I had been running errands earlier in the day, stopped at home to make a phenomenal green curry from my overflowing vegetable supply and headed out before realizing I was wearing not-kitchen shoes. I was closer to work than home and was considering stopping at a thrift store to grab a pair, but first I thought I should update my Facebook status so as to alert all of my "friends" of my silliness (aaaahhhhh...it seems I enjoy making a fool of myself to the masses). So I pulled out my handy dandy phone and started typing. What did you say? I should not text while driving? Pish-posh. I'm invincible. Ka-Thunk!
I hit a curb. I ripped out the sidewall of my tire -- my less-than-a-year-old tire. I limped the car into the nearest parking lot, stopped the van and then updated my status to "Jennifer has a flat tire." I put in a quick call to Chef to alert him I was running late, found a pair of gloves and stepped out to change the tire. Amazing how quickly I moved in 25 degrees. It took me thirteen chilly minutes to finish the job only to discover that the spare was flat. I called Chef again. He came armed with an air compressor from work, but the spare was toast. We loaded the original flat into his truck and headed to a used tire shop that I googled while waiting for my rescue (see, the phone has its merits when used properly), had a new tire put on the wheel, returned to the van, replaced it and we were at work cooking and cleaning by 3:15.
Let me tell you...I'm glad this all happened. I believe this to be a gentle nudge from the Universe that I need to put down the phone while driving. I could have just as easily hit a car or a dog or a child. I also feel remarkably fortunate that I didn't experience a flat with the dud of a spare while traveling with the kids, while it was sleeting or on a dark highway far from civilization. And as Chef and I have already shared more than one misadventure, I'm feeling remarkably assured that this will most certainly not be our last. I've got to keep you coming back here somehow, right?