So I'm waiting for hubby to get home from work yesterday, and I get a phone call. It's hubster. He and dad ride back and forth to work together, and the bearings went out on dad's truck. He tells me exactly this, "We're broke down just outside of Alexandria."
Of course, I must go and get the guys. My mom can't handle the pressure of driving in places she's not familiar with, and besides that - it's already getting dark. *sigh* I don't really mind going, it's the act of getting out of the house that makes it a chore. First, my Jeep is flat-ass on empty and I have twenty dollars to my name for gas. Next, I gotta take Mini to my mom's and drop him off, because there's no hell quite like trying to find someplace in the dark with a cranky toddler in the backseat. I dare you to try it.
It takes me about 40 minutes to actually start on the journey. Before leaving mom's, it comes to mind that I might actually need something to drink while on this hour long drive, so I tell her I needed a coke. Hm. She didn't have anything in cans, so she poured diet coke into a metal travel cup...that didn't have a snowball's chance of fitting in the cupholders in my Jeep.
So, as soon as I turn off onto 167 South, the travel mug tips over and spills Diet Coke along the edge of my seat. Yep. I'm now sitting in an icy cold puddle since, of course, the law of physics dictates that the beads of cola aren't going to absorb into my cheap seat covers until they're RIGHT UNDER MY ASS CHEEK. For real. I sigh to myself and keep driving, while trying to absorb some of the mess with the sleeve of the black hoodie I tossed into the passenger seat before leaving home.
By the time I reach Winnfield, I discover every cop in the area must be out on patrol, and that everything beyond the Red Hill water tower is a mess of road construction. What a beautiful combination...45mph traffic and a guy who rides my ass, but won't pull my hair. Just what every woman needs.
I also want to let you all know how dark it is along 167 at night. There's nothing out there but trees, cops, and pitch black darkness. No street lights, no gas stations, and barely a reflector along the road. Oh, yeah, and it's a dead zone too. No cell phone towers. I swear, this place must be the portal to Oblivion.
I drive with my cell phone open, waiting to emerge from the DZ. After about 45 minutes, I get a single bar. I start trying to dial hubby, but I still can't get a good signal.
Just ahead there's a sign that says, Alexandria 24 miles. By this time, I really have to pee. I see this Chevron station up ahead on the right, but at the same time, I figure I must be pretty close to where the guys are so I don't want to stop. I keep driving. After all, hubby said, "We're just outside of Alexandria." Alexandria's not that far. I can hold it for that long, right?
So I finally get a signal and call hubby. He says, "Where are you?" Why, I'm in a little area called Creola. He has no idea where that is. He confers with dad then tells me the wonderful news. "I think you've passed us."
"Uh, hubby, your directions suck." Nope, I am not a happy girl. I tell him he better figure out where I am and fast because I'm getting into insane road construction and heavy traffic. His answer: "Well, first things first, you're gonna have to turn around and get on 167 North."
That response officially activates my Bitch Factor. Oh, and to the road construction people working on that stretch - you need to at least put one turn around point between Creola and Alexandria. AND you need to mark it with reflectors, because four lanes of traffic and no way to get from 167 South to 167 North is just damn stupid!
As I'm heading into Alexandria, I see a sign for the airport. It's the first off ramp, so I take it. As I'm heading UP this crazed off ramp, I see a sign for Monroe (home!). I cut a sharp left where the ramp V's off, and get stopped at a red light. I'm right beside the overpass now, and the traffic is at four angles - in a double X pattern, because each side is two lanes of one way traffic.
The light changes, and I turn left, go maybe ten feet under the overpass, and see the turning lane for 167 North. This thing is a sharp L, has no reflectors and is as wide as a Shreveport driveway. Great Pete... It's like a little cement lip between medians. Un-freaking-real. I get back on 167 North and I swear, I could have killed with my deathstare. On top of that, I really, really have to piss by this point.
I feel around for my cell phone, but can't find it - of course. So I pull over and turn on the overhead light. When I do find the phone, I call the hubster. Now don't get me wrong, I love him. We've been together 19 years, most of those married, and were highschool sweethearts. And yet, his ability to give directions sucks hog balls. There, I've said it. When I enlighten him to this fact, he passes the phone to my dad. And from there, Dad talks me the rest of the way to the break down zone that is "just outside of Alexandria". Yeah, right!
You want to know what's really ironic? Remember that Chevron station? That one I contemplated stopping at to pee? They were in walking distance of it. Oh yeah. If I'd have stopped and called, I would have been able to take care of the "have to go" problem, and wouldn't have passed them up by 20 minutes.
So that was my evening yesterday. We made it home around 11pm. Mini wanted to stay at Grams, and I was too tired to argue. Hubby picked up his Jeep, and I drove mine. I arrived home tired and hungry. So straight in from all that - I had to cook supper. Very glam, no?
Anyway, speaking of glam... One of the stories I sent out in December got a response last night. The editor wants me to take it, and develope it into a full novel. I've decided to do it, but at this point, it's a bit like sizing up Everest. And just for the record, I've never climbed a mountain.
That's it for me. I hope you all have a happy hump day. ~_^