this is why when you sell a vehicle you should leave at least three dollars in the ash tray

So, I had an appointment today with a surgeon to talk about the whole gallbladder removal thinger. It was 800 degrees in the exam room and I felt bad for the resident who had to check for abdominal tenderness. I did shower this morning, but seriously, doctors should have AIR CONDITIONING. I kept Liliana entertained with Angry Birds (Mom! I killed the pig!) but then Noah called and Liliana doesn’t quite know how to do the whole answering-the-phone bit and put him on speaker phone. I grabbed the phone from her and hung up on him. He understood.

Anyway, so afterward we made it down the elevator (with everyone inside) and down to the parking lot and to the pay station and I saw two words that made me panic a little. CASH ONLY. Crap. I never carry cash. Ever. Unless you count those couple pennies that have been in my wallet for ever and ever that do not amount to the $3.00 parking fee. I looked around in the van to see if the previous owners had left me some change, but no. This is why I didn’t park on the street, because there’s nothing but parking meters and I HAD NO CASH. I told the lady at the pay station that I only had debit and that maybe they should put a sign on the entrance to the lot about the whole we-don’t-take-debit thing. She told me that there is such a sign. Crap. She then pointed me toward the ATM machine three blocks away and told me to back up, park, and visit said ATM.

Here’s the thing, though. My baby is nearly 17lbs. And he was sleeping. And I can barely lift his car seat from the house to the van without my legs buckling. I wasn’t going to walk three blocks carrying that car seat AND prevent Liliana from being run over. So I backed up, parked, and called Noah. Because he hasn’t missed enough work due to me lately.

The thought of just driving into the exit bar thing may or may not have crossed my mind, but then I thought that if I get stuck, dealing with all of that would just take longer than just parking and waiting for Noah and I haven’t pumped enough milk to cover a jail sentence for destroying public property (I hear they’re long).

Here’s where I tell you that we temporarily have two vehicles because we bought a van. Yes, yes we did and I LOVE IT. It’s so spacious! and roomy! and big! and now Kaylie can have play dates because we can fit another kid (or two) in there! Anyway, so that meant that Noah had a vehicle to use to stop by an ATM to bring me the $3.00 it was going to take to get me out of that prison parking lot.

While we waited, Preston slept, Liliana ate some cheezies that I just happened to have with us, and I wrote an angry Facebook status about the parking lot company. I’m nothing if not classy. I also opened all the windows so that we wouldn’t die of heat stroke (just from the malaria that the mosquitoes carry). One of the parking attendants, the one I’d spoken to, came around checking … something, I don’t know what … and I told her I was just waiting for someone to bring me cash. Just in case she maybe thought I was fixing a bomb to blow up the stupid pay station so I could get the heck out of there. She asked to see my ticket and said that she’d reduce the fee from $3.00 to $1.50 because of the hassle. Score!

A couple minutes later I saw Noah’s car stop on the street in front of me so I ran out, grabbed cash from him, thanked him, and ran back to the van. I didn’t want the attendant to think that I left my children alone in a (well-ventilated) vehicle, even though the farthest away I was, was about 15 feet.

I finally paid my ticket fee, was let out without having to break the barrier bar thing, and was on my way to get my blood sucked out with a needle.

And this is why when you sell a vehicle you should leave at least three dollars in the ash tray.

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