This was one shitty Monday. I was absolutely exhausted, despite getting plenty of rest over the weekend. I barely finished watching The Sopranos last night when I remembered I had to get up extra early to take the car in for inspection today. Whenever I deviate from my normal routine, I tend to sleep very lightly with half an eye open in nervous anticipation.

I was out of my house in plenty of time to drop the car off and still make it to work. There was barely a lineup to get into the Honda service station, so I anticipated a leisurely stroll to the coffee shop to get my breakfast and walk to work instead of running myself ragged in the mornings like I usually do. I stood by the guy at the service desk making sure they would change the oil and check the breaks. All said and done, I took my receipt and said I’d be available to pick the car up on my lunch hour.

I entered the school building and had enough time to schmooze with my co-workers and even write a progress report for one of my kidlets before the day officially started. My student teacher arrived with the first bell (I had forgotten she would be popping by today) and I hurried off to gather my first group of the day.

About an hour later my cell phone rang and on the other end of the connection was Vinny, the service station dude.

“Uh…ok, I have some things to discuss with you…”

And there started a long list of all the things wrong with my car that would have to be fixed in order to pass inspection. The left and right axels were cracked, the front breaks were worn down to the nub, the battery was shot, fluids in the car were cruddy…on and on he went, as my pulse quickened to an unhealthy pace while the blood drained from my face. The way he was talking, it’s a wonder the car didn’t blow up on my way to the place!

He told me the total…I had to shake my head to clear the wax that must have been clogging my ears preventing me from hearing correctly. He repeated the figure…

“That’s more than the damn car is worth!” I argued. But I realized all my fussing was futile. I needed my car to pass inspection and in working condition.

My 1996 Honda Civic with only 51,000 miles on it needed emergency surgery and a few transplants. How this all happened in one year since last inspection is beyond me. But I can tell you this; the hefty sum I’ll be putting on my credit card tomorrow at pick up is more than I’m paying for my trip to St. Martin in July…airfare included.

Mondays suck.