Someone in our house left a door open to the Bermuda Triangle. These items have all mysteriously disappeared or reappeared since Thanksgiving:
|My PDA||Under a cushion on a love seat where I rarely sit||six nights, seven days|
|Michele’s PDA||at a Wendy’s||overnight|
|A Fossil watch belonging to a Thanksgiving guest||in a backpack||a couple of weeks|
|A laptop belonging to an employer||in the garage||over a weekend (and giving us heart attacks most of Monday)|
|Several overdue library books||let’s just say the fines are adding up||still missing|
|My headphones||under the futon, where Little Bit was wrestling them||all day yesterday|
|The transmission of Michele’s car||in pieces||eternity|
Yes, Michele’s car died for good Wednesday night, as we were driving home from work. I was at the wheel, and I am grateful to God that the transmission collapsed where it did: just as I was making a left turn onto El Camino. I was able to get the car through the turn and into the parking lot of a tire place. Ordinarily we would have been on 85 by then, driving 70 mph in the car-pool lane, but we had errands on the way home, and I decided to take back streets rather than suffer through the traffic on 101.
We were lucky. It was rush hour, but nobody hit the crippled car. We were on side roads (locally known as “surface streets,” as opposed to freeways). It even had the decency to expire within half a mile of an Oldsmobile dealership. They’ve pronounced the car dead, and now we need to scavenge the books and other goodies from its interior, figure out how to get rid of it, and start looking for a new one. Thank God we’re at full employment now.