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Alana and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

1:34 AM

When I woke up this morning, I knew that today was going to be...a little off. Boy was I a little off in my assumption. Today was day five of me working straight eight hour days with no day off in between. I was exhausted because I'm used to working and having days off somewhere. No such luck.

I knew that when I got to work my manager would be leaving to go home, and that I wouldn't be able to take a lunch until my associate came in at 6:30pm. I was prepared. I had snacks, and I had eaten before I even got to work. The last thing I needed was to be starving by the time the  associate came into the store. A hungry Alana is a furious Alana. So I was good.

My manager left, and then I got the call. The girl who was supposed to come in at 6:30 couldn't come in, and  the back up associates weren't answering their phones. I. Wanted. To. Fight. Somebody. So now, I'm hot because the AC in my store is broken, and I am without help. In the end, she ended she came in at 7:50, an hour and forty minutes before I was to clock out. By 7:55 hunger had set in, and I was tired from carrying a store by myself. I was tired of sweating from the heat in the store. Also, I was tired of hearing, "tell me the price." Listen, I can't stand a rude person, and as of lately, I've been rolling my eyes at customers. Just the other day a customer asked me a really stupid question, and I turned to her and said, "girl look, no." It's so time to find another job.

Anyway, the  work day finally came to and end and...I lost my key card to get out of the mall. That should have been a clear indication to just park the damn car, and figure out another way to get home. Somebody, somewhere was clearly trying to tell me not to drive. Of course I didn't listen to the signs. 

And there were signs. My car was driving funny, but I figured I would just take it to my dad and have him fix the problem. I am the ultimate girl, I know absolutely nothing about cars. Dad takes my car to have oil put in it when it's low, because I can't do that either. I just learned how to put air in a tire.

Knowing when to say when probably would have  been great tonight. I didn't think my car was driving crazy enough for me to pull over or worry. Oh how wrong was I. The car started shaking, and my car jerked to the side, and then I smelled it, something was burning. *sigh* I had a flat tire. 

Not only did I have a flat tire, but according to the tow truck driver, I had pulled over onto a dangerous part of the road.

Him: This is very dangerous
Me:Uh, I didn't want to pull over here, but I kind of didn't have a choice. 
Him: This is very dangerous
Me: O_o

So now, not only do I have a flat, but I also have a man here who is supposed to help me, but only knows four words. FML! So I get in the tow truck, well I'm short, so I kind of fell into the truck. In the truck, the guy is humming the tune of the wedding march, and talking to his girlfriend on the phone. I hope she knows how much he loves her. The guy then begins telling me how to get over on the insurance company. 

Him: just make something up. They're not checking. Make sure you have your story straight.
Me: O_o *laughs uncomfortably*

I'm now thinking the worst is over. I mean, we're around the corner from my parent's house. We'll drop this thing off, and dad will take it around the corner in the morning and get a tire for my car. Yeah well, no. The guy lowers my car to the ground and he and my dad look at my tire, look at me, whistle, shake their heads and look at my tire again. I read my father's lips, it's broken. BROKEN?! Who broke it?! Certainly not I. I was just driving home. Ok, so maybe I was speeding, but I always speed. Maybe this isn't helping my case.

We thank the guy, and my father slowly drives my broken car into his parking space and keeps looking at it. I guess he was hoping that if he stared at it long enough it would magically fix itself. It did not. :-(

Now a few months ago, my dad was going through my trunk and announced that I, she who knows absolutely nothing about cars, didn't have a spare tire in the trunk. Where did it go? Who took it? Who doesn't have a spare? Then he informs me that I don't have a jack. Listen, I'm being Punk'D that is the only thing that could possibly explain this.

That leads me to my issue tonight. When the tow truck guy pulled up in front of me at the dangerous spot on the freeway, he asked me, after telling me that where I was parked was dangerous, if I had a spare tire. I immediately said no, because my dad said that I didn't, and well, I never thought to check. That was the reason for him towing me, because I didn't have a spare. 

I get to my parents house, and my car is parked, and my dad looks in my trunk. What's in there you say? A damn spare tire. He's all, "Lana, I thought you didn't have a spare." I responded with, "YOU said I didn't have one. I never looked to see if I did or didn't." When I tell you I tossed the keys to my car in his direction and walked away, I mean it. I had been through too much in one day to discuss the spare tire that wasn't there when it really was. 

Alexander  and the Terrible, Horrible, No GoodVery Bad Day is one of my favorite books. I use to think Alex, as I like to call him, was just a whiner who couldn't see the glass as being half full, but rather dry as the  Sahara DesertBut I get it now. Boy do I get it. Alex wasn't exaggerating, his day was terrible, as was mine. This day just made me want to lay down my burdens.

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