Yesterday was always going to be a busy day. Get up early to zoom over to the house and pick up some much need items (books! need books!), over to Mom's doctor's appointment, two different banks, and then back to Karen's in only a couple hours. It's tight, especially given that I didn't sleep a wink the previous night and Mom, even though she's walking independently w/o the walker, still needs me for support and tires easily.
So I'm walking around like a zombie getting everything ready, but when I get out to the CR-V the little remote open-the-doors clicky thing doesn't work. Great, on a day like this, the battery died. But it's a slight inconvenience and it doesn't really matter. Until I put the key in the ignition.
And turn it.
And nothing happens.
No little red signs. No ticks. No rr-rrrs. No nothin'.
My sister tried it, but she too lacked the magical touch. By the time AAA was called and the technician came out, we had passed the point of no return for Mom's appointment. She missed the doctor. And the worst news of all: the battery is completely dead. Not one volt left. The little printout said it's supposed to have something like 400 amps and it had 200. This is an ex-battery.
Great. Now we have to go home to leave the CR-V and pick up another car, like my Pathfinder. So we make it, no trouble. Dad's there and he takes it to our mechanic to get the battery and oil changed. Everything's hunky-dory.
Until I walk into my room. My nightmare this whole time at Karen's is that Dad might feel compelled to clean my room. It's a mess. Even for me, it's a complete wreck. I favor an organizational scheme based on piles, which drives Dad nuts, and he's always trying to get me to clean it, even when I consider it fine. Now that I'm gone, I feared he might take the initiative and just do it.
And he did.
And now I can't find anything. All my books, which were so lovingly organized, now pishaw! Just higgledy-piggledy! Everything is now re-arranged and I don't know where to find anything anymore. Yargh. Turns out he didn't even do it for me: someone's coming to see the bathroom off my room and he didn't want them to walk through a messy room.
Okay, so I get past that; Mom and I get ready to leave. A storm comes! I get rained on while I pack up the Pathfinder.
At this point we're still trying to make it back to Karen's for Mums' 4:00 physical therapy appointment. Despite having to go the bank. And my unfortunate stomach ailment, which I won't discuss here for reasons of tact.
So we get to the bank just fine - despite the rain! - but when I turn the key in the ignition, guess what? In the ignition of a DIFFERENT car from this morning? Oh, wait! It starts and then phizitch!!
Nothing.
I turn it again.
The air bag light comes on.
I bang my head into the steering wheel, "Not again!"
Oh, yes. Again.
I wait a couple minutes and try it. There's that pesky air bag and a few ghostly lights on the dashboard, but that's about it. So. We call AAA. Again. For the SECOND time THAT DAY. Do you know when the last time I called them was? Pro'lly 8 years ago. I must be breaking a record.
We wait, with my unfortunate stomach, and call Karen, who declares Mums and me 'car jinxes'. Until Bret, his rock star blond hair, and his tow truck arrive. It's the battery this time, but it's good. The connections, though? Awful. They're corroded and loose and we should take it to get maintenance as soon as possible or it's just going to happen again.
We've now completely missed Mom's physical therapy appointment, but at least we get home safe. I try to drive my poor, little Pathfinder (Ethel) as softly as possible so as not to shake something loose. But evidently something must have happened, because it won't start today.
Sigh.
I need a horse.
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