Husband out of town, dead car battery. Go figure.
This isn't the first time a car situation has happened when Joe was out of town. Just last year I discovered the hard way how many Italians it takes to change a flat tire (the answer: Maria, Massimilla, Italia, and Stella).
In fact, a lot of things happen when Joe goes out of town. Where was he when we rented our house two days before Spring Break and I had to clean, pack, and get the entire house/yard ready all by myself? Kansas City. Where was he when we had an ice storm and lost power for three days? Los Alamos. When we were battling snakes? Oakland. When I backed into a parked trailer and broke a tail light? I don't know, somewhere.
Anyway, so this time it was a dead car battery. I should also mention that it was raining, that I was blocking our piano teacher's driveway, and that while I was checking under the hood Timothy was standing on an anthill.
I called Nicholas, and with a little help we hooked up jumper cables. The car still wouldn't start.
The battery was dead, dead, dead.
So, what does a gal do when her husband is out of town? I called my Dad. This is twice in two weeks that my Dad has been my hero (remember the snake?).
I purchased a new battery at AutoZone, and my Dad and Nicholas installed the new one. Oh, did I mention it was raining? While they were loosening bolts and bruising knuckles I was the umbrella holder.
Anyway, a half hour piano lesson turned into a three hour situation ...
and my husband was out of town.
Bia the umbrella holder