I Probably Shouldn't Tell You This

Because I'm going to look like a total "girl" when you hear the story, but ... 

I spent Tuesday evening running errands with no problem, but when I got out to my van Wednesday morning, it wouldn't turn over ... it just clicked. I woke my daughter up and made her take me to work. She was probably asleep the whole time, but (somehow) I arrived safely.

My boyfriend came over that evening and looked at the van. It has a new alternator on it, so that wasn't likely the problem. He said the battery looked fairly new. "When did you buy it?" he asked. I had no idea. I remember important stuff ... like when I bought those lovely sandals with delicate straps in various shades of blue ... but not when I bought a battery for the van! I remember buying it, but not when. I remember it was bitter cold outside the day he followed me to the auto parts store to buy it (because they'll install it for you and he didn't want to stand outside in Siberian conditions to put in it). We got to the auto parts store ... only to have a woman wait on us. Being the gentleman that he is, he ended up helping install it because he couldn't stand a woman outside ... at night ... alone ... in that kind of cold.

Okay, back to Wednesday evening. After listening to my van, my boyfriend said it was most likely the battery or the starter. He cleaned the connections and had me try starting it again. It didn't start right away, but it finally turned over. He followed me to the service center, where the owner was just locking up. The mechanic said it sounded like the starter.

My daughter was off work Thursday, so she loaned me her SUV to drive to work (thus saving her another day of driving me to work in her sleep!) I got out to the vehicle ... and couldn't get the key to turn in the ignition. I tried several times before resorting to calling her and asking her if there was some kind of trick to starting her car. Of course, I had to call her a few times before she woke up and stumbled outside. She sat down in the passenger seat and I handed her the keys ... holding onto the fat gray one that starts the car. She looked at me and rolled her eyes. "Mom, that's your key!" She held up the black key. "This one is mine!"

Oops! My bad!

In my defense, we drive different models, but our vehicles are the same make and year ... and I didn't know she had a key to Savannah. I my mind, my mistake was forgivable ... but she didn't look very forgiving when she exited the vehicle and stumbled back inside. Fortunately she was asleep the whole time, so she probably won't remember the incident at all!