A Woman on a Mission

This is my refuge, my cathartic release... It's not glitzy or glamorous, but it's ME.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Tuesdays Suck

It's 4 hours later-
I had some errands to run before my tai chi class this afternoon, and I remembered as I was getting ready to go, that I had to put windshield fluid in my car. So I go out to my car and pop the hood, and I'm looking all over for that familiar little windshield symbol. I've seen it a million times before, I know it is here somewhere, but my eyes aren't finding it. So, I just assume it is the big plastic tank in front of me that doesn't have a symbol, although it does say, 'do not open while hot,.' I start to pour in the fluid, glug glug glug, and I realize to my HORROR, that I'm pouring windshield fluid in the radiator, where the ANTIFREEZE is supposed to go. Am I a complete moron? Have I completely lost my mind?

I call a mechanic, and after a good chuckle he tells me all I have to do is get the windshield fluid out, by either a turkey baster, or by taking the plastic thing out of the car, and dumping it. So I run into my kitchen where I'm sure I'll find a baster in the utensil drawers... Nope, nothing. Then I go outside and try to yank this plastic tub out of place. That doesn't work either. I call my husband, and he's in a meeting. I debate calling AAA, and I once again go outside and try to pry the plastic jug out. So here I sit, running web searches on removing antifreeze containers, and nervously twitching my feet. I called my tai chi instuctor, and told her chances were, I wasn't going to make it anywhere, and she told me I could make the class up. She told me I sounded 'stressed' and maybe I needed to relax. I had to bite my lip and swallow back the tears that wanted to fall.

Inside my head, I'm screaming at myself.

"You stupid idiot! Do you see what happens when you don't pay attention? You moron, how are you going to explain this one to your husband without sounding like a careless ass? You dummy." Such nice self talk don't you think? It's no wonder I hate myself; I can't make a silly mistake without beating myself up about it, over and over. The little things, they always get me.

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