On the way to a last minute doctors appointment to check on little Buddy's worsening rash, I hit the accelerator this morning in our nine year old black Honda Civic, aka, Raisin, and heard an ominous popping sound. Next thing I know, the muffler's out. Big time.
What I felt driving through town today was akin to the utter humiliation coursing through my body upon getting de-pansed in 7th grade, while wearing my granny-sized, mint green underwear. I do believe that pair sat higher then my belly button.
Adrenaline rushing, sweat breaking out all over my body, beet red in the face, we thudded and rolled through the streets as I called the Honda Dealer on my cell phone and simultaneously tried to set up a babysitter for tomorrow.
It literally felt like the engine was being propelled by three plastic hamster balls, filled with hamsters running around, having heart attacks loudly.
I'm going to go downstairs now and eat a big bowl of Reese's Peanut Butter Puffs with skim milk while watching Barefoot Contessa reruns. It's been that kind of day.