Tootin and Puking

I had a very strange day yesterday. I woke up and came to work just fine, but around 10:30 I started feeling cold, hot, and dizzy. About 11am I started throwing up in my trash can, so I called my boss and told her I was going home. When I got in the car the shits hit me.

It was a race with the devil to get home. I am driving my father-in-law's car and I was not going to puke or poop in it. So I screech into my drive way, jump out of the car, and start watering the bushes right outside my house. (White tea tastes just as good the second time as it does the first.) Right in the middle of this I hear, "Ya all right?"

I look over to see our elderly neighbor the Widower. He's wearing cow boy boots, a rain coat, and nothing else. That image dried up both ends pretty damn quick.

I took a long nap and ate some bread. I felt better. My best friend calls me about 2:30pm and tells me my car has broken down. Again. In a crappy-ass part of the city. For the next hour I am the call center between Alissa, my husband, and me. She managed to park the car at one of her company's lots and found a ride home. Only thing is she left the hazard lights flashing. We would have had a dead battery by morning, so now I have to drive and meet her in order to get the keys.

I pile my oh-so-pretty butt into Pa's car and proceed to get lost trying to find my way to Gravois Bluffs. I finally find Alissa and get the keys, then drive back and wait for hubby. He arrives, we drive to the lot where my poor car is dying, and he starts it right up. Huh? It drove great...until we got to the highway. Seems it may have eaten some bad gas, anything over 40 mph produced sputtering and coughing. We limp our way home and spend the rest of the night talking car options with Alissa.

She picks up her new Dodge Charger today. Yipee! Now I drive the piece-of-crap in the family. Not so yipee. Alissa bought me a really cool T-shirt. Yippee again.