pickle jars and weakness

This morning I had a good cry because I have no strength in my hands. Of course, the cry was helped by a lack of sleep and a very stressful 24 hours.

You see, the tire on my car has been going flat. I re-filled it with air as the weekend unfolded, hoping to make it to Monday morning. It got worse as time passed...duh.

I really didn't want to call AAA. The local guy (the ONLY AAA guy in the area) is a creepy old man who ran his hand across my ass the first time he came to my house. I try to hold off on calling unless I am really desperate.

So I took my car at 1am in 25 degree weather to the sketchy gas station near my house. I refilled the air. When I got home, I could hear hissing out of the hole made by a nail. Thank you, construction crew near my work.

I tried to do a quick cover with a hot glue gun. It just blew bubbles in the glue. I tried to cover THAT with packing tape...no slowing of the air. Tried to find my fix-a-flat. No luck.

At 3 am, I realized that I have a new car! All of the parts are there to change the tire myself! Yay! I am saved!

But no. At 8 am, I enthusiastically went out to solve my own problem only to be reminded that I am a weak woman. I can't open the lid of a pickle jar.

My weak hands were unable to snap open the cover that held the jack to the car. I tried for 10 minutes. I cried. Tried again. Cried again.

While on hold with AAA, I kept trying to snap off that damned lid. Two hands, one hand, with a towel, with just thumbs. No luck.

So, because I am a weak woman with weak hands, I had to call Mr. Creepy to my house.

Wait 1 1/2 hours.

Try to avoid physical contact.

Watch helplessly as he changed my tire. (He didn't use my jack...no need to remove the stupid lid)

4 hours later, Wal-mart had my car all fixed up. Unfortunately, my soul and ego are still feeling victimized. Creepy old men in overalls can do that to you.