So, after class tonight I picked up a bunch more recital costumes to work on and hit the road. About a half mile from the studio my car suddenly self-destructed. Not a huge surprise as it is 15 years old and had been handling really badly for a while now (the... whoziwhatsit broke. The thingy. Wossname. Sticky-outy bit that makes the wheel attach to the car. That thing.). It was completely seized up, I couldn't even move the gear shift out of park. So, anyway. I do not have road-side assistance, but my husband does, so I called him to come (thank god we recently bought a second car) and call me a tow truck. And I am standing there by the side of the freeway like a transient wearing pink tights and a sweat-soaked leotard. Such a good look. And then IT STARTS RAINING. Because obviously someone said "it could be worse!"
When my hubs and the tow arrived I drove our second car home and my husband pretended he had been driving the busted car so AAA wouldn't argue about it.
"OF COURSE." He said. "Obviously I was driving the car with the giant freakin' tutu in the front seat. I see nothing strange about that.
"And the ballerina purse is totally mine, too."
