Sweatshirt: Macy's
Boots: Olivia Miller, Kohl's
Pink and True Blue Boho Necklace
Today the husband and I were all set to visit my sister, who had her third baby last week. The outing called for an out-of-the-house outfit, and I went with my new celestial sweatshirt, old denim mini, and a necklace I made last night. Oh, and also my beloved Betsey Johnson couch purse. Or maybe I should say love seat, considering its heart-shaped pillows. So attired, just before noon, I climbed into the husband's truck. We took that instead of my Honda because we were stopping at a storage unit to pick up a shipment from the husband's wood monger. Yet no sooner had we pulled into the lot than we heard the sickening hiss of a flat.
A flurry of phone calls to AAA and Firestone later (sadly, our donut was toast), we went to the gate to wave in the tow truck. An unmasked woman charged out of the storage unit office and profusely apologized for not having invited us in from the cold sooner, adding wouldn't we like to warm up now while the tow truck guy did his thing? During the course of her monologue, she mentioned that she was sitting around doing nothing, waiting for Animal Control to come bag, of all things, a bat. Oh, I thought, she's lonely; that's what this is. Then, Go back inside, crazy bat lady.
I said thanks but no thanks, then turned heel and hopped in the tow truck. The driver was also unmasked, which unnerved me, but the lack of a lethal critter made him seem like the safer option. Little did I know I would question this a mile or two later when he started coughing. As for the husband, he stayed behind to call an Uber (we both couldn't fit in the tow truck). I spent the ride studiously staring out the window, clutching my couch purse and wishing that I'd never left the safety of my actual couch in the first place.
We met at Firestone, where we waited a couple of hours for them to replace the tire, then doubled back to pick up the wood. We never did make it to my sister's. Still, although this misadventure was annoying, expensive, and violated almost every personal COVID prevention protocol that I hold dear, it could've been a lot worse. If the tire had blown out on the highway, then we might've gotten into an accident and been spattered all over the asphalt like an Olive Garden lasagna that flunked food inspection.
That would've been awful.
As would passing COVID or anything else on to any of you. Which is why the Pink and True Blue Boho Necklace is now airing out in the craft room.
By the way, Pink and True Blue Boho is the name I settled on after rejecting Flat Out Fab, Road Rage Sage, and Wagon Wheel Teal.
I had a lot of time to think in that Firestone.
