Monday, August 31, 2009
Come on, just fix it!
I took my car in to get the brakes checked before my 50,000 mile warranty ran out. I was at 49, 920 miles. Yes, I'm really good at procrastinating. So a few hours after I dropped it off, I listened to my messages and heard, "Yeah Sarah, we didn't find anything wrong with your brakes, but we had a little mishap in the shop. Now its not too bad and of course we'll get it fixed for you, but you better come down and check it out." Fun. It really wasn't too bad. They just run into poles every once and awhile when they're backing out. Just a little dent.
So I brought my car back a few days later to get the dent fixed. I was actually kind of excited to drop off my boring Hyundai Elantra and drive something else for a few days. Maybe they'd give me something fancy or bigger. Something different at least. So I was a little surprised when they walked me out to a shiny, new, red. . . Hyundai Elantra. Really? And even better than mine, it smelled like cigarettes. Great. So I drove around the next two days (even in the rain) with all of the windows down, and was very excited to get rid of that rental. And get my shiny, white, DENTLESS Hyundai Elantra back.
So I brought my car back a few days later to get the dent fixed. I was actually kind of excited to drop off my boring Hyundai Elantra and drive something else for a few days. Maybe they'd give me something fancy or bigger. Something different at least. So I was a little surprised when they walked me out to a shiny, new, red. . . Hyundai Elantra. Really? And even better than mine, it smelled like cigarettes. Great. So I drove around the next two days (even in the rain) with all of the windows down, and was very excited to get rid of that rental. And get my shiny, white, DENTLESS Hyundai Elantra back.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Playground Blues. . .
It has been a really really long time since I've posted anything on here. I've been very busy. . . I guess.
.
Last week, I started working for my mom's daycare. I'm still working at the hospital a few Saturdays a month, but I spend my weekdays with twelve tykes under the age of four. Its actually been a lot of fun so far. We have already been to every park in town. . . just this week! Today was extra special. We walked to a park that has those gross wood chips on the ground. I guess they don't get stuck in your knees or hands like the little rocks and they're not as messy as sand, but I don't like them. They remind me of fourth grade. We had those wood chips on our playground at school. One day, one of my friends didn't feel very well, but she still thought it was a good idea to swing upside down on the parallel bars after lunch. And she wanted me to watch. I'm pretty sure I tried to talk her out of it, I must have, but she didn't listen. She grabbed on, jumped, and hooked her knees over the bar. And then she started swinging. And swinging. And turning pale. And swinging. Then green. And still swinging. And I watched. I probably told her to get down, I'm sure I did. Then, as I stood beneath her, watching and just hoping she wouldn't. . . she puked. It landed right next to me. I jumped back. Gross. She finally stopped swinging, got down, and quickly buried the puke under a pile of wood chips. "Sarah, please please please do not tell the teacher! Please don't tell! I really don't want to go home! Please, Sarah!!!!" We were playing Bingo Bango Bongo that afternoon. . . obviously too important to miss. So I didn't tell. I wonder how many kids stepped in that pile that afternoon. I know I didn't-- I didn't go near those bars for a long, long time after that.
.
So I just don't trust those wood chips. You never know what's hiding underneath. . .
.
Last week, I started working for my mom's daycare. I'm still working at the hospital a few Saturdays a month, but I spend my weekdays with twelve tykes under the age of four. Its actually been a lot of fun so far. We have already been to every park in town. . . just this week! Today was extra special. We walked to a park that has those gross wood chips on the ground. I guess they don't get stuck in your knees or hands like the little rocks and they're not as messy as sand, but I don't like them. They remind me of fourth grade. We had those wood chips on our playground at school. One day, one of my friends didn't feel very well, but she still thought it was a good idea to swing upside down on the parallel bars after lunch. And she wanted me to watch. I'm pretty sure I tried to talk her out of it, I must have, but she didn't listen. She grabbed on, jumped, and hooked her knees over the bar. And then she started swinging. And swinging. And turning pale. And swinging. Then green. And still swinging. And I watched. I probably told her to get down, I'm sure I did. Then, as I stood beneath her, watching and just hoping she wouldn't. . . she puked. It landed right next to me. I jumped back. Gross. She finally stopped swinging, got down, and quickly buried the puke under a pile of wood chips. "Sarah, please please please do not tell the teacher! Please don't tell! I really don't want to go home! Please, Sarah!!!!" We were playing Bingo Bango Bongo that afternoon. . . obviously too important to miss. So I didn't tell. I wonder how many kids stepped in that pile that afternoon. I know I didn't-- I didn't go near those bars for a long, long time after that.
.
So I just don't trust those wood chips. You never know what's hiding underneath. . .
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
