One of the weirdest days of my Life . . . Part One

Yesterday morning, I jumped out of bed at eight and knocked on my son’s bedroom door and reminded him that he needed to get ready, pronto, to help me drop off my Volkswagen Bug at the VW dealership so that it could get its 50k mile service and oil change.      

Note Bene: I weighed myself and my weight came in at 157 pounds that morning (June 6, 2017). Not bad, but I’ve been thinner, and my lowest weight I’ve ever reached–as a middle-aged woman–is 151 pounds, but I’d like to get to 145 pounds.

Anyway, I digress.

My son is driving my beloved 2002 yellow volkswagen bug that we bought in 2008, and which I lovingly drove until 2016, when I bought my new (to me) 2013 fire-engine red volkswagen bug.

My son’s driving skills leave much to be desired. 

We get to the Volkswagen dealership and I drop off the red volkswagen bug. Oh, by the way, before we left the house that morning, my son noticed that the antifreeze coolant warning light was flashing red. Danger. So he called my husband, who said, “Go to the basement and get the antifreeze from the basement.” 

My son went to the basement to look for the antifreeze, couldn’t find it. I went to the basement to look for the antifreeze, couldn’t find it. Oh, well, my husband told us. Just get some before too much time passes.

So anyway,

My son is driving me home. Again, his driving scares me witless and I say so and he laughs at me. We stop at the Post Office, where I need to post a letter. He drops me off and drives to Dollar General. I walk over to Dollar General, it’s only a few hundred feet away, and wait for my son. He walks out of Dollar General with a jug of Peak antifreeze, some soda, and some corn dogs.

I do not approve of my son eating corn dogs, but I don’t say anything.

We get home, we park the car.

And here’s the part where I have to wonder where my brain is, because I pop the hood of the yellow volkswagen bug, and lift it, and show my son where the antifreeze section is, and I watch as he opens the gallon jug, tears off the plastic foil, and proceeds to pour Peak antifreeze into the 2002 yellow Volkswagen Bug with 177k miles on it.

I collect my stuff, and proceed to drive to a hospice center where a dear friend of mine is staying. She’s not doing well. She was in the hospital, and had pneumonia, and didn’t want to take the breathing treatments and didn’t want to accept some of the procedures that the medical staff was proposing, and so the hospital basically said they couldn’t do anything more for her if she was going to refuse treatment, and so, as her guardian, I approved of the transition to hospice.

You know what that means.

My friend was lying in her bed, having difficulty with breathing, but otherwise comfortable. The room she was in was lovely, with a gorgeous view of a tranquil inner courtyard garden filled with birds, chipmunks, and geese and lots and lots of bird feeders–every window in this facility has a fully-stocked birdfeeder–but the poor woman was too far gone to even notice the view.

I drove to Starbucks and it wasn’t until I started instant messaging with my hubby that I realized my mistake with the antifreeze.

We put the wrong antifreeze into the bug!!!!!!

Yikes!

More on this subject . . . tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

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