Deployment Demons Have Been Summoned, Part II

As I write this, I am sitting at the service department of the car dealership waiting for news about my car (presumably very bad with the possibility of causing high blood pressure, cursing under the breath, and a stiff cocktail at the end of the day). 

Of course, out of nowhere, or actually because the deployment demons have been summoned in full force, a little light popped up on my instrument panel yesterday.  In the 5 years I have driven this car, I have never seen this little light.  But of course, Hubby has not been gone 4 days and BAM! I have a new “growth opportunity” to contend with.  After driving around town for my daily dose of mind-numbing errands, I sat down to look at the car manual.  It reads:  “Anti-lock brake system: If the ABS light stays illuminated or continues to flash, a malfunction has been detected, have the system serviced immediately by your authorized dealer.”  Oh snap!

Sometimes, Ignorance really is bliss.  However, I, not knowing much about cars and because I follow directions, immediately called the service department for an appointment.  So here I sit.

How much “fun” will I have this time around from the deployment curse?  This time my fun began less than 1 hour after I dropped Hubby off at the airport.   The drop-off was a kiss-and-go.  He kissed us all good-bye without much fanfare and told the boy “See you later, Alligator.”  A round of “I-love-you’s” and I pulled away from the curb.  Deep breath.  Smile.  Go.

As we drove home, the Boy and I discussed what a great visit we all had, and how he was going to stay in better touch with Dad through email.  Yada, yada, yada.  I had warm, fuzzy feelings toward Hubby until I put my hand in my coat pocket to retrieve my house key, only to realize that HE had my house key.  And HE was 30 miles away at the airport, probably already through security.  It’s starting to snow.  It’s dinner time.  I have cold, hungry kids and NO house key.

Spoiled Wifey Moment:  I am sometimes, *ahem*, a bitch.  This little fiasco couldn’t go unreported.  I did call Hubby to inform him that he should check his coat pocket.  Did he feel bad?  Yes, as he should.  I realize this was one thoughtless act was completely accidental (We were doing the divide and conquer with the kids.  I was strapping Diva Darling in her car seat, while he was rounding up Little Man and locking up the house.).  But it still caused a lot of *ss pain for me nonetheless.

I called my neighbor who rescued me and the kids from the cold and hunger.  We took refuge in her home, and I started dealing with the situation.  My kind neighbor couldn’t locate our spare key, and we weren’t sure if she even still had it.  I called my landlord.  He didn’t have a spare either. *sigh* Two house keys were making their way to the other side of the world.  The spare’s location was unknown.  I was locked out.  Perfect, just perfect.

The locksmith was called.  He was very courteous, prompt, and EXPENSIVE.  I didn’t bother with price comparison when it’s a Saturday night, snowing, and I’m annoyed.  (Aside:  It is rather disconcerting how easily a lock can be picked.  It didn’t look like any special tools were really necessary.)  Anyway, a quick fix and we were all back in the warm house by bedtime.

Now every time I come home, the new and shiny gold doorknob reminds me of my Hubby.  Whether it is a good or bad association, I’ll never tell….

CAR UPDATE: Punch to the gut.

A sensor has gone rogue.  The sensor replacement part only costs $20, but it’s located behind a wheel, axle, and 2 hours of labor to get to it.  As I’m calculating money and scheduling logistics, the service technician says, “Oh, by the way, your brake pads are measuring 4/32 and should be replaced.  If it measures 2/32, it won’t pass a state inspection.”  Hmm, do it now since I’m here or wait until next month, consuming another day of precious child-free time?

I had to call into the support network.  My kind neighbor, the very same one who sheltered us during the lockout, is meeting Little Man at the bus stop.  This is the very same neighbor who 3 weeks ago watched Diva Darling when I was curled up in a ball of misery, incapacitated from a violent, nasty stomach bug of doom.

Deployment Curses, or Growth Opportunities, (depending on your attitude) come forth in threes.  Dare I ask “what else?” Or 2 out of 3 and I catch a break this time around?  Meanwhile, I keep adding to the ever-expanding THANK YOU fund to my neighbor.  If you have any you-are-as-close-to-an-angel-on-earth-and-are-the-BEST-neighbor-ever gift ideas, please let me know.  

Good times!