whatever it was,
I don't know why these things happen except to say that I talked to my friend Tami Jo today. And the onslaught of things that generally happen when I do that started at lunchtime. It's been merciless.
I was in the truck listening to a Bible study program about being in God's will when the heater started blowing cold air. I pulled out the headlight knob and checked the temp gauge which was climbing toward hot. I let it sit until it cooled off and told my boss I didn't want to deal with trying to have to get the thing home at one a.m. in case I didn't make it. I didn't want to leave early. My boss had a good idea to run to the shopette and get a gallon of coolant. They were closed for inventory.
I decided to come home. There is a gallon jug of coolant that may be coolant. It may also just be water. It wasn't mine. It's a leftover from when my old roommate/GF's car got totaled on our first date.
I have a story for everything. I swear I do.
Anyway, I leave work early. I text and ask if I may have said gallon of coolant. I can't use my phone and drive on Hill AFB so I put it in the cup in the cup holder, thinking it was empty. It was a good thought, but not a correct one. My phone just got damp. It still all works thanks to some divine intervention and quick thinking on my part.
I'm blessed to get the truck home. But now the dogs have to go out. And one of Miss June's furry friends who escaped two days ago is back and wants in. I try to get her in while the dogs go out. Another of Miss June's furry friends gets out and gets in the middle of this stray cat and Moo. I'm trying to get Moo in, keep the dogs out of the fight, and pick up Mel, whose tail poofed out like a bottle brush.
Mel has claws and teeth.
Dale has holes in his arm.
I dumped so much alcohol on my arm I was unsafe around open flames for a time.
OK, all's well that ends well. My friend texts me and I tell her all this stuff. She suggests bed.
Bed is for sissies.
I go out to the truck to get my W2. I lock myself out of the house.
The old lady is home, so she lets me back in.
Whatever it was that required me to come home early I'm probably grateful for not knowing never happened. I'm firmly convinced that whatever it was, it had to be ten times worse than these little tragedies.
The truck is home. I am back in the house. Skin grows back. Mel said he was sorry. Moo is in the house. I have my W-2 and can do my taxes. God is on His throne and everything is well. I thanked God for these little instances because as stacked up as they were, they weren't horrible.
I was in the truck listening to a Bible study program about being in God's will when the heater started blowing cold air. I pulled out the headlight knob and checked the temp gauge which was climbing toward hot. I let it sit until it cooled off and told my boss I didn't want to deal with trying to have to get the thing home at one a.m. in case I didn't make it. I didn't want to leave early. My boss had a good idea to run to the shopette and get a gallon of coolant. They were closed for inventory.
I decided to come home. There is a gallon jug of coolant that may be coolant. It may also just be water. It wasn't mine. It's a leftover from when my old roommate/GF's car got totaled on our first date.
I have a story for everything. I swear I do.
Anyway, I leave work early. I text and ask if I may have said gallon of coolant. I can't use my phone and drive on Hill AFB so I put it in the cup in the cup holder, thinking it was empty. It was a good thought, but not a correct one. My phone just got damp. It still all works thanks to some divine intervention and quick thinking on my part.
I'm blessed to get the truck home. But now the dogs have to go out. And one of Miss June's furry friends who escaped two days ago is back and wants in. I try to get her in while the dogs go out. Another of Miss June's furry friends gets out and gets in the middle of this stray cat and Moo. I'm trying to get Moo in, keep the dogs out of the fight, and pick up Mel, whose tail poofed out like a bottle brush.
Mel has claws and teeth.
Dale has holes in his arm.
I dumped so much alcohol on my arm I was unsafe around open flames for a time.
OK, all's well that ends well. My friend texts me and I tell her all this stuff. She suggests bed.
Bed is for sissies.
I go out to the truck to get my W2. I lock myself out of the house.
The old lady is home, so she lets me back in.
Whatever it was that required me to come home early I'm probably grateful for not knowing never happened. I'm firmly convinced that whatever it was, it had to be ten times worse than these little tragedies.
The truck is home. I am back in the house. Skin grows back. Mel said he was sorry. Moo is in the house. I have my W-2 and can do my taxes. God is on His throne and everything is well. I thanked God for these little instances because as stacked up as they were, they weren't horrible.
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