Yes, I know, this isn’t WTF Wednesday. You’re just going to have to deal with a WTF Friday because my fat old lady ass is dragging and this is the best I can do.

I think I am finally at the point where I can laugh about this.

Maybe.

Let’s see … It started with my darling husband taking a spill and breaking his arm.  (The good news is that the break is at the shoulder and as long as he wears a sling and keeps his shoulder immobile, it should heal without further intervention.  The bad news is, he’s in pain.  Pain is not a good thing.) Actually, there is nothing funny to say about this.

A few days later, I got in my car to go to Golden Guild rehearsal and the car wouldn’t start.  Nothing.  Got it towed to the local dealership (after having a long and somewhat entertaining conversation with the tow truck driver, and now I know all about his marriage history and his current romantic status. What can I say, I have one of those faces – go ahead tell me anything).  It was the starter.  My car is now 20 years old but they were still able to get parts.  Whew. Because I love my 20-year old car. It is a manual transmission (very hard to get today, which makes it almost impossible to steal – because who drives a stick?), manual windows (yes, Virginia, some people actually do roll their windows up and down without the benefit of a little button – and should me and my car ever find ourselves in a body of water (omni-present in Michigan), I don’t have to worry about being trapped because the electric windows shorted out).

So no car for me, so I have to drive the Tesla.  I am so not comfortable driving the Tesla.  But my darling husband (sling and all) accompanied me to rehearsal, so I could get used to driving the Tesla, and the next day I soloed.  So now, I am checked out to drive the Tesla on my own.  (Yippee?)

Day of the Tesla solo – get contacted by my credit card company.  My credit card number was stolen.  Fuck me.  Luckily, I have an emergency credit card, so I was not left without plastic, which would have been a real disaster. 

And the coup de grace.  I go to my Aquaflex (water aerobics) class. Yay me! Taking care of this fat old lady body. I get into the pool, I’m exercising away, when I realize something feels wrong. Something around my fat old lady saggy boobs, and that’s when I realize I got into the pool with my cell phone tucked into the bra of my swimsuit.  A super-duper fuck me moment.

My phone is (or I should say was, RIP) an SE – pre-improved waterproofing by iPhone.  It worked for about an hour and a half, flickered and died. 

Good news, my cell phone carrier decided I needed an upgrade, and I was able to get an iPhone 12 for $200.  Bad news, Apple is not ready to deal with stupid people who kill their phones and then want to set up a new one without the ability to just transfer everything.  (Which I’m just saying, I cannot be the only person this has happened to.) Here’s a hint – the SIM trays are not interchangeable but the itty-bitty cards are!  Just don’t drop your itty-bitty cards onto your she-cave carpet (where it will land sideways, rendering it virtually invisible), and when you finally find it you get the new and the old SIM cards mixed up and so you can spend a not insignificant amount of time trying to figure out which is which (those little fuckers are a bitch to handle when you have fat old lady fingers). 

It is my fervent prayer that God (TIDBI) has found someone else to pick on because I have about had it.