I am a creative paranoid - by that, I mean that I can envision all kinds of crazy, horrifying scenarios of things that might, but probably never will, go wrong. One of my favorites (should I use that word?) is that Jeff winds up in a disastrous car accident on his way to school or out delivering pizzas.
So yesterday, I was three minutes from getting off work and enjoying a snooze, courtesy of a NyQuil hangover, and the phone rings.
"Amanda? I've had an accident."
(My heart sinks below the level of my chair.)
"Are you hurt?"
"No, and the car isn't too badly damaged."
"Is it driveable?"
"No, I have two flats and busted-up rims."
"The road was narrowing into two lanes and some idiot decided to whip up in there and he cut me off and I could either hit him or run up onto the curb."
"I take it he didn't hang around for the aftermath."
"Oh, no. He's gone. And no one is stopping to help, either. I have to get to school! I don't know what to do!"
"Are you in the middle of the road?"
"Call the police. They can get a wrecker. You at least need a cop there to divert traffic so you don't get run over. Then call one of your classmates and see if they can pick you up. I'll have my cell phone and you can call if I have to come to Chattanooga and get you."
"Uh, yeah. Okay. [insert unintelligible muttering] Bye."
So I ran to the bank to deposit the money we'd been squirreling away for several weeks so we can pay for a tow truck and tire repair. So much for the emergency fund. We can't even save $1000 without wiping it out. Later Jeff called and told me that one of the tires is repairable, but the rim is bent too much on the other. He wound up putting the donut back on and limping the car home.
I give up. I'm trying to consider myself blessed that we had the money stuck back to cover the expense, but I'm so irritated about having to spend it on tire repair when it really should've gone for brakes and tuneups that I can't see the "blessed" aspect of this right now.
Back to Square One. For the thirty-thousandth time.