Take last week, for example. My car was leaning toward over-heating a couple of days per week, and the fuse on my windows kept blowing so I couldn't roll them down, and the AC wasn't consistent. Aspen and I were running errands and I realized I should just get the oil changed and the fluids topped off and get it over with.
I pulled into Jiffy Lube and when it came time for them to give me the run-down of things that I probably don't need but could pay for anyway, the poor guy didn't realize what he was getting into.
Don't get me wrong, I was super-nice about shutting him down. He was going through one thing after another and I kept saying no thanks, and then asked me to go with him to my car and take a look under the hood.
So there I was, holding Aspen on my hip because she would. not. hold. my. hand. in the garage bay. And I had my nine-months-pregnant belly sticking out a mile for all the world to bump into. The attendant kept asking me to peer into the depths of my engine and see what he was pointing at with his flashlight. I looked at him and said I was not interested. That there was no way I was going to try bending over while holding my child(ren) but that I was happily going to pay for an oil change and coolant. THE END.
It was strange to me that he hadn't yet picked up on my desperation to be done with the whole situation and leave. I was sweating bullets due to the temperature and humidity, I was trying to listen to him while ignoring the constant chatter of a toddler in my ear, and I was obviously a million months pregnant. How did he not know I felt like stabbing something?!
I'm just relieved that now my car is no longer over-heating and Kev didn't have to spend any time underneath it to change the oil when he would rather be doing other things.
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