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Manic Monday

Yesterday morning was a disaster.  When Alex comes to visit me he usually stays over on Sunday nights, and I drop him off at the train station on the way to work in the morning.  This typically works out fine, unless he has 37 bags, a box of booze, and a strong desire to not get out of bed on time.  All of which seemed to be the situation yesterday.

When we finally got out the door, it was about 7:15 which would make me late to work if I were driving straight there, forget about the train station stop.  Once we are on the highway, I notice Alex starting to feel around in his pockets.  “What don’t you have?” I asked him.  He ignored me and continued searching his pockets.  Knowing it was his Blackberry that he was most likely missing I pulled off the highway and headed back towards my house.  “Don’t talk to me for a second,” I told him.  “I have to call my boss and let him know i’m going to be late.”

With the Blackberry in our possession, we headed back toward the train station only to hit bumper to bumper traffic at a complete standstill the second we merged onto the highway.  That is when I banged my head on the steering wheel a few times, muttered a string of curses, and Alex ate his apple and bagel.

We made it to the train station at 7:58, two minutes before I had said I would be at work, and just as the horn of a train let us know of its imminent arrival.  We said our goodbyes quickly, Alex bolted for the train, and I continued my drive to work.  Where I finally arrived at 8:20.


So I live with my mom, which at 24 years old is no easy feat.  To say she drives me crazy every once in awhile is an understatement.  The latest incident occurred yesterday morning when I was rushing out the door to get to work.

It was about 30 degrees outside so I wanted to start my car and get it nice and toasty for my drive to work.  I ran out the front door with my gym bag and keys, threw my duffle onto the backseat, and with my left leg hanging out of the driver side door, put the key into the ignition, my right foot on the clutch and pushed the start button.  As soon as I took my foot off the clutch, my car jumped forward and stalled.  Apparently my mother, who has a perfectly good functioning car of her own, had taken mine out for a spin while I was away left it in first gear and did not pull the emergency brake up all the way.  When I took the car out of gear to start it again, it began to roll backwards down my driveway with my left leg still hanging out of it.  Not exactly what I need at 7 am on a Monday morning, thanks mom.

I stormed back inside my house and politely asked that if she is going to drive my car can she at least please leave it in the condition that she found it, so I am not rolling down the driveway hanging halfway out of it.  Yup, that’d be great thanks.  Oh, and then my gas light came on before I even hit the end of my street.