So my gas light came on the other day. Said 50 miles or something til empty. Blew it off. You can do a lot in 50 miles right?! I have time, I told myself. Go about my day. Come home for the evening. Next day is here and I have a doctor's appointment at 1. The baby slept until 10am so that was fabulous. So we had a lazy morning, one which included a bath for her. Fast forward to what should be the end of said bath and she refuses to get out of the tub despite us needing to leave the house by 12:30. 12:37 comes and she's finally dressed albeit with not thoroughly brushed hair and no socks with her tennis shoes because I don't have time to argue with a two year old about socks. Drop her off with a friend so I could make my anatomy scan at 1. My obstetrician had changed locations since my last visit. I know this bc I got a voicemail the other day telling me the location of their new office. I can't find the street on any map app I have nor on the GPS in my car. But the voicemail says "behind the Courthouse" amongst other details as to where exactly they are. Perfect. I know where the courthouse is.
Despite running late I make it to the courthouse by 1:01. No biggie. One minute isn't going to hurt anyone. But wait, I can't find the OB's office. And I'm behind the courthouse. Call the office. No answer. Drive around. Don't see the street name I'm given. Keep driving in that general vacinity whilst continuing to ring the OB's office. Finally someone answers. 1:07. I tell her I'm lost and I'm behind the courthouse. Courthouse?
She's confused. Yeah, in the message it says y'all are located behind the courthouse. No, she tells me. They are behind the FORD HOUSE! WTF is a ford house, you ask? I pondered the same - answer? The local ford dealership. Who calls it a ford house? Whatever. I ask if it's by the courthouse. No, she says. Fantastic. It's 1:10. I get the proper address to the godforsaken ford house and haul ass. Within legal speed limits of course because I'm no monster. A few miles down the road I'm feeling hopeful, my car tells me I'm two minutes from my destination. It then also immediately tells me I'm zero miles until empty. Zero.
Has your car even said zero miles? Heart. Attack. And it only chimed this cute little single chime before my dashboard lit up with the words zero miles to empty. My mind did what the car should've done. FUCKING SIRENS.
Yeah. Sirens went off in my mind and my body temp immediately roses 26 degrees and I'm frantically searching for a gas station. I see one. It's on the next exit. I get off the highway and it's a fucking smoke and save or some shit where they turned an old gas station into a "grab your smokes and liquor" joint (do ppl still say joint?). So I saw gas pumps but that shit hasn't works since god knows when.
I let out some profanities and keep driving.
Finally coming across a proper gas station. The light right before the station is green but I envision it turning red and me running out of gas and standing on the side of the road pregnant, hot, and crying because I want my husband whom is probably flying (therefore unreachable) with my luck. The light stays green, proof that Jesus loves us, and I pull into the gas station. I pump 20 seconds worth of gas which I've learned buys you 54 more miles according to my car when I got back in. Drove my two more miles to the OB office. Pull in the lot and see the dealership next door. I mumble something like "fucking ford house"...
...because its totally the Ford House's fault that I can't get my kid out of the tub in a timely manner and have gas in the car.
I hobble-run inside and tell the ladies at the desk a very condesed version of the last 20 minutes. Which went something like this. "I thought y'all said the courthouse". Laughter amongst us all.
Then they tell me how "an older woman" made the same mistake. Great. Now I have the hearing of "an older woman". It's 1:19. I'm still seen. Anatomy scan done. Baby boy healthy. Drove home less heart-attacky. Hate the fordhouse. Fin.
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