Flat Tire

There I was... 8:15am Wednesday morning... hair down and done, color-coordinated-with-outfit-makeup, sunglasses, work bag, coffee, keys. I'm capable! Self-reliant! Confident! I can take on the world and do anything!

Nope. Flat tire.



Do you see that bolt in there? CURSES TO THE UNIVERSE!
So what to do, what to do. Call Patrick! Patrick proves totally useless and laughs loudly as I lament. I stomp back inside, grab my ipod, and suffer six stops on the metro to work. Enter Shane who sneaks up behind me on the street. Ha HA if he only had known I would woo him with my damsel-in-distress-need-you-to-come-over-after-work-and-fix-my-tire feminine wiles. They worked! That or the promise of free beer and dinner :)



All better now (or at least better enough to get me to NTB on Saturday). Thumbs way up for S-dub. He was top of the list to take the Nats game with me tonight since I got the boss' tickets.