This morning, I got myself ready, set the alarm, locked my back door, and entered the garage. When I pressed the unlock button on my remote, nothing happened. No clicking of the car doors as they unlocked. No single toot of the horn. Nothing. I thought maybe the battery on my remote had died, so I unlocked the door the old fashioned way and tried to unlock the backdoors. Again, nothing. When I twisted the key, nothing. My car was as dead as it's ever been. This after recently, in fact VERY recently, spending a big chunk of change on getting my car repaired.
Since I had meetings to go to at school today, I called my friend Toni and asked for a lift. Soon, she was honking outside and we enjoyed riding to school together. Being the drama queen that I'm not very often but can sometimes be, I told everyone about my car (as I was apologizing for being late). As I worked and attended meetings the rest of the day, so many people offered their help. Rick, Bo, Ginny, and Asao all offered to give me a ride home.
I used to be and can sometimes still be the kind of person who has a hard time asking for help. I've gotten into the habit of walking 5 miles home after I drop off my car to be fixed. And, although I do sometimes ask for a ride back to pick it up, I've also been known to take the bus. When stuff doesn't work in my house, it's sometimes even hard for me to call (and pay) someone to fix it. I have an independent streak that makes me feel like I should be able to take care of things on my own.
But today was one of those days when I couldn't take care of myself. And I'm grateful for friends who were there for me--and who made it easy to accept help.
My car still sits dead in my garage . . . but I'm not stressed out, surprisingly. I know that this weekend I can bum rides, walk, or take the bus to do what I need to do. And I know that on Monday, I'll get a jump or get my car towed to get it fixed. So, aside from the drama of sharing my hard luck story today, I had a good day.
