The morning is always frantic. By the time I leave it typically feels like I’ve already worked a full day–go potty, shower (usually), cup of coffee, load dishwasher, throw in a load of wash (that I will forget about), feed the dog, let out the dog, pack lunch for Evie, let the dog inside, give the kids breakfast, dress the kids, brush kids’ hair, do my own hair, makeup and get dressed; can’t forget that one. All the while the kids are shower stalking, demanding things, taking my shoes out to wear them, climbing on me. Then, when it’s time to leave my poor son is screaming and crying and clinging to my legs because he doesn’t want me to leave. That whole ordeal is heart wrenching. I shut the door behind me; the freezing cold takes my breath away.
It is actually 1 degree today. That’s cold. No wonder my lungs aren’t happy. And, apparently, people have become so fancy, school now gets canceled because it’s cold out (absurd). But, work is not canceled because of the cold so I continue on to my car. The leather seats are of course freezing. If I were fancy, with the luxury of time to spare, I would’ve heated up the car before getting in. I sit there waiting for the blasting cold air to warm up.
What’s this? Some yellow alert is lit up on my dash. WTF? No clue what it’s for but I don’t want to end up stranded somewhere in this freezing cold. I rummage through our overstuffed glove compartment to pull out the manual. Oh. Great. So turns out it is low tire pressure. Likely from the 1 degree weather but I am not taking chances, especially being that I couldn’t find my gloves this morning (probably in my kid’s Stuffies–it’s what’s inside that counts). I drive to the closest gas station. Yay, free air reads, “Out of Service”. I get gas. Yay, I get that awesome nozzle that the latch is broken, so I get to stand there while my hand freezes. Get into the car to try another gas station; no free air in sight.
I drive to another gas station and check my door jam for how much air pressure is right because I have no idea–32psi. Victory! Free air found. It’s me, freezing and frantic in my nice work clothes, tall boots now rummaging around because where the hell is the tire pressure thingy to measure it? It of course isn’t in the car. I go into the store. Score. Go back to check the air in the tires. I can barely feel my fingers as I twist off the tiny black caps. The culprit–right back tire; 22psi. So I freeze my fingers and ass off some more, while I fill the tire, check it, make sure I’m not overdoing it. Success. The dashboard yellow alert light is off. My freezing frantic morning coming to a close, as I drive to work arriving a whole hour and a half late. When I sit in my cubicle to turn on my lap top, there’s a moment where it actually feels like a break to be in the office. It’s a fleeting moment, but I am thankful for it after the freezing and frantic morning.