Cursing my tiny hands, I managed to sniffle, snort and bind up the courage to re-inject my insulin.
And I thought things couldn't get worse.
But today, when leaving work, I decided to go through the automatic car wash since my white Acadia looked, well, black. I sat in line for 30 minutes and waited patiently(ish) as each car went through and paid too much for their "Wave Automatic Wash." It was close to six p.m. by the time I pulled through the dryers and decided to go to Arby's to get a sandwich. Sitting in yet another line I noticed that the car in front of me was smoking really bad.
"Geez - get a new exhaust, Peeps," I said to myself as I rolled up my window.
Finally, it was my turn and I pulled to the window to get my sandwich.
"Do you need any sauces?" the man asked me.
"I uh - huh?" I was distracted. The smoke was still in front of my car - but the old Buick was gone. "Um -yeah - ketchup please." I was mesmerized. Large clouds of smoke were coming from the front of my Acadia like an old man on a park bench.
Now, I'm not a mechanic and I never claimed to have oodles of car knowledge - but I was pretty sure that the massive amounts of smoke - not a good thing.
So I got my sandwich and pulled over.
Quickly, I popped the hood latch and turned off the car and started feeling under the hood to find the release.
Which I couldn't find. I called Harry.
"Hello darling - where is the hood release?" I said (or something like this equally sweet and not at all demanding-like).
"Um - why?'
A nice couple from NC who were stretching their legs helped me find the latch release. "It's your radiator," the man said and then apologized for smoking around me when he found out I was pregnant. How sweet. :)
Long story short - it's my radiator. The fan isn't kicking on. Moses, the local dealership we buy from, came down and followed me back to the Service Station. I was given a tiny red Toyota to drive and I came home, clutching my cold Roast Beef and purse to my chest and finally, two hours after leaving work, I arrived home.
And couldn't get the key out of the ignition.
I was close to bursting into tears - again. For the third night in a row. Like a babyhead.
But instead I laughed the laugh of the insane and just kept tugging on the key. Finally after holding my breath, crossing my eyes, turning back on the car, moving the gear shift and then quickly yanking the key out - I was free.
So I made it through the night - so far - without a meltdown (if you don't count my radiator) and without shedding a single tear (so far).
"Did you get home okay, then," Harry said when he called later.
"Yef, I ho okey," I said with a mouthful of food shoved in my piehole.
"Okay. Just making sure. Do you want a new car? Or mine? You can have my Escalade if you want it, you know that," he offered.
A smile, and ketchup, spread across my face.
It felt odd - it felt different - it felt - right. :)