I Want My Daddy

That's what I thought right after, "Shit! Not now!".

I had decided taking a break from studying for my final Monday wouldn't be too bad. Especially since all I was doing was running to the grocery store. So wrong. My short trip ended up taking 1.5hrs. Since Thursday my car has been taking a little effort to start. I knew I needed to get it looked at, but figured it could wait until Monday, after my final. I called the man on all things mechanical: my father. He agreed it could probably wait.

So today, after getting my groceries (although I forgot one of the two things I initially went for, naturally. More on that in a moment), I tried to start my car and nothing. Just a sad clicking noise. No lights. Nothing. That's when I had my oh so mature moment of, I WANT MY DADDY!

It's a little sad that when I have problems with my car, I naturally want my father. At my age I should be able to take care of things myself. Instead, as I was pulling the portable jumper he'd given me (which I've only ever used for the compressed air part, to air up my tires) I realized I'd never jumped a car before. I read the instructions (three times, just to make sure) and then proceeded with full expectation of electrocuting myself. I was shocked by the way I was handling things. I was not raised to feel like some weak little girl in situations like this. But there I was, feeling like a little tiny girl. The parking lot seemed sketchier than normal, I had people watching me (not offering to help mind you, just apparently amused by the white girl trying to start her car) and I had lost all ability to look at the situation rationally.

I left it hooked up, and waited. First try nothing. Then some nice older man came over to make sure I had hooked it up properly (I had) and told me to try it again. It worked. I thanked the man (he was the only person in ten minutes who had shown any concern) and called my parents back to let them know the car was running.

So to top it off, when I got home, I realized I'd forgotten something. You see, this past week I realized that my can opener is missing. I really really don't know how this happened. I've looked everywhere (checked the fridge frequently) and can't find it. So last night, forgetting the can opener was missing, I decided I wanted green beans. I eat canned green beans unless my mom is awesome enough to cook fresh ones all day until they're mushy. So here I am staring at the can thinking, people used to open these things without can openers. I mean, they must have on camping trips or something. I stared at what I had: knives, bottle openers, wine bottle openers, screw drivers, and a hammer. Well naturally, after attempting the wine bottle opener and realize I was only denting the damn can, I went for the hammer and screw driver. I beat the shit out of that can. Then I pried it open. Took me a good few minutes, but the evening ended with me eating green beans.

So today, I thought to myself, I need to get a can opener and the closest place to do that is the grocery store. And then I returned home without it.