My Truck Is In Intensive Care

This is a post with a moral. Read on, dear friends, so you can learn from the painful lessons of my life.

Once upon a time I was working 2 jobs. Waitress by day, bartender by night. Some rather shady things were going on at the restaurant & I was clearly being told by that loud voice in my head (it is loud due to my inability to listen; I have very keen hearing, I have poor listening) to quit that job before the state came a-knockin'. The boss man could (and should) have gone to jail for what he was doing & once I discovered it all, I didn't want to be a part of it any longer. But it was a job in a shaky economy & gosh darn it, I loved my job. It was my safety net in a very crummy period of my life.

Over & over this voice told me to get out before the place was shut down & I was questioned on what was going on.

One night after waitressing, I went to my oh so high class second job as a bartender. A tired bartender because I'd already worked 9 hours & was going for another 9 hour shift. In February after an ice storm. Get the picture?

I was working on a Friday night & I was cleaning up the bar with all my coworkers after bar close. I picked up my garbage to take it to the dumpster & I thought, "Self, be careful, it's icy out there." Open the door, one step out...the crack of a tail bone on ice is not a pleasant sound. It's rather icky. And painful.

I couldn't work for a very long time while my bone took its time healing. Bones take a long time to glue back together. It's not pleasant .

My boss fired me for not being able to work (yeah, yeah, I know that's illegal) & told me he thought I did it on purpose. Ha ha, yeah right. I wanted to be able to not pay my bills for weeks on end & take care of my children from a side lying position. Don't all mothers want that?

God got sick of waiting for me to listen and he made it so I couldn't work at the shady restaurant any longer. Sneaky Guy, He is. That is the day God literally pushed me out of a work place I shouldn't be in.

The moral of that story...God will only nudge for so long before He pushes.

Today I'm sitting in my home with a heavy feeling that I really, really didn't want to go to work. Don't know why. No reason to not want to go to work. Other than being lazy anyway. I have a very cushy job...in fact, I'm writing this at work (how cool is that?)

I'm very spoiled at work considering how tough my past nursing jobs have been. And my boss loves me & lets me do whatever I want. I'm even allowed to take a nap if I'm tired. Whoa, I don't even get that at home!

I went to work anyway, after whining to the hubs & the BFF. I would have also whined to my Mother but I'd already done that this week so I gave her the day off. (That's how thoughtful I am.)

I was at work 15 minutes when tragedy struck. My beloved truck...the truck I call my baby...the truck that was the only consistent thing through my divorce...and I was awarded by the judge after the ex tried to take it from me twice...the vehicle I waited 11 years for so I could finally have a vehicle without baby seats...the vehicle that everyone says is so me...the truck that I love more than any human...the truck that symbolizes my independence & ability to "make it"...was smashed into by a much bigger truck.

Let me pause while I wipe the tears.

This much bigger truck, aka Meanie Truck, laughed at my crumpled truck. I saw the smirk on Meanie Truck's hood & heard the chuckle from deep inside his engine. I punched Meanie Truck. Meanie Truck walked (drove) away with a broken tail light & a tiny scratch on his bumper. Okay, all of that is true except that I did not actually punch Meanie Truck. My hands were too busy covering my face.

I need 2 new doors on the driver side. The driver door jumped off my truck & tried to land on top of me when I opened it. And made a very scary screeching sound as it did it.

Today's lesson...not only does God push but He also beats up your truck when you don't listen. I should have stayed home.