The other day I woke up and got in my car and started driving down the street. Only the car was sluggish. Granted, it was 9am and sort of cold out, but that was no excuse. The car was unusually sluggish. With a foreboding feeling, I pulled over quickly, opened the door, and looked down at the tires. Ah, yes. The back tire was completely flat. Pancake-esque. This is something you do NOT need at 9am.

So I ended up leaving my car there and running to class. All through critique, I stressed over how I would get my car fixed. Inexplicably, there is a tire place mere blocks from my house, but could I drive the car there? Would it have to get towed? That was going to involve mad cash, right? Shit.

After class I went to the tire place. Because this is a small city (I guess), they got a mechanic to drive me to my car and put the spare on so that I could drive it to the shop. He took one look at the tire and told me someone had slashed it. What?! Apparently there has been a rash of random tire slashings in the neighborhood lately, so “I shouldn’t worry that someone hates me.” Well, that’s comforting. Assholes!

Once I drove the car back to the shop, I gave the cashier my keys and walked the ten minutes home.

It was only when I got to my front stoop that I realized that I had given the cashier ALL my keys. Including my house key. So there was no way of getting in. I was dejected. This was one sucky day.

Since I am a big baby, I called my roommate-to-be and told her my sob story, and she kindly offered to come and drive me to the tire place to get my house key. I am not too proud to admit that I took her up on her offer.

Anyway, long story short, I got my car back, two hours and $70 later. But who slashed my tire??? Now I live in fear each morning that it’ll just happen again. I mean, who does that to somebody they’ve never met? Two hours out of my life and $70 I DON’T HAVE, just because somebody had to be a dick.

It only confirms that I’ve made the right decision about moving to that nicer neighborhood.