How a puppy saved my ex-husband’s life.

So, my ex-husband and I are still pretty close.  I do his taxes, he fixes my car, and we take the kids on family adventures together.  It’s a decent set-up…a lot better than I see most other families that live apart working with, anyway.

But.

See, Brian forgets things.  LOTS of things.  And sometimes, I feel like he is still forgetting anything that has to do with me, which is probably a little dramatic, but whatever. Divorce IS dramatic, anyway.  So, the latest thing he forgot is to put oil in my car.  My car burns oil and now and then we have to replace it.  No biggie…but that’s HIS job.  Just like how we divided up the puke and the shit..he cleans up any shitty messes and I clean up any pukey messes.  So, anyway, yeah.  He forgot.

Well, I stopped to get gas on my way to a training (one I REALLY wanted to go to) in Gainesville at the UF HR building, which is two and a half hours away, and I called him to see if he had ever put the oil in like I had been asking him for three days.  When I didn’t get an answer, I just figured I’d check it myself.  So I did. And there wasn’t even any oil on the dipstick (heh, that word makes me giggle).  That’s bad.  So, I grabbed the oil and funnel from my trunk and started adding oil….a LOT of oil.  Because, you know, no oil on the dipstick means you need a LOT of oil…..and you might have thrown a rod on the trip to Gainesville if you didn’t bother to check up on the ex-husband who FORCES you to be a bitchy nag.  Or something.  Ahem.

I was looking all cute, in a pair of piped Old Navy denim trousers, Old Navy flats, a red and white ditsy print Old Navy top with a ruffled top that made my boobs look amazing, and my favorite white open front cardigan…from Old Navy.  Holy shit, I just realized I was a walking, talking Old Navy ad this morning.  I think I brought bad karma on myself by wearing head to toe from one ‘designer.’  Anyway, alas, the cuteness was not to last.

I somehow, because I am amazing at finding the one possible way to fuck something up, managed to puncture the bottom of the five quart bottle of oil on something under my hood.  But, I didn’t realize it right away, because I was occupied with the pour-wait-pour pattern my tiny funnel forces me to perform.  So, by the time I realized oil was pouring from the bottom of the bottle, it was all over the side of my car..all over my engine….and all over ME.  I frantically put the cap on and held it upside down while I internally had a mental break, then I put the puncture hole over the oil hole and let it drain in there, which took about ten freaking minutes because the hole was even smaller than the damn funnel hole, while I said a few choice words and called Karl, because, yanno, I needed moral support to mop the oil up.  Or something.

So, once he talked me down from the proverbial ledge, I went home and threw my clothes in the washer.  I was too late to make my training.  So, out a training on project management, which I NEED.  Out the nearly hundred bucks in mileage.  Out a super cute outfit including my favorite cardigan evah.  Angel = REALLY not happy with Brian, who would have circumvented the entire disaster by just, you know, putting oil in my car.  Like I asked him to.  Three days straight.

And then, everything changed.

A s I ran around my house in my underwear, realizing that my windblown hair looked like ass so I needed a decent outfit to make up for it, I realized…it’s the 16th…review day for the puppy I had applied for at Hernando County Animal Services.  And I wasn’t in Gainesville.

So, I drove there.  Well, after I got dressed.  Again.  I was so sure the little black pup with the white star on his chest and stripe down his nose wouldn’t be there.

But he was.  And then I was so sure I wouldn’t be the chosen applicant.

But I was.

And this little guy right here:

….made me so happy, I forgot all about planning a torture chamber to extract revenge upon Brian’s soul.