Curses!

Funny story ahead--except for the funny part. So it's been a hectic few days with trying to write and pack. Dave spent the morning running an obstacle course at work (his annual physical agility test) and then waited for our fridge to be delivered by Lowes. Don't you just love it when they say we'll be there between 10 and 2. Right....

Dave finally made it home around 2:30. We had lunch then headed over to PetSmart to pick up the last of the puppy items we need: food, bowls, potty pads, bags, shampoo, etc. We toss everything in the truck and then head over to Wal-Mart for some random stuff like paper towels and things. As we're pausing at a stop sign in the parking lot, we suddenly hear a cacophony of crashing, and the driver's side front end drops down to the concrete. We can't move. We have little steering. We're generally fucked.

Dave is able to drive it a few feet out of traffic and into the overflow garden section of Wal-Mart. He gets out, pops the hood, and takes a peek. Yeah. Not good. The ball joint has snapped off of the left arm. Fuck Beans!

We call a tow truck driver and wait. And wait. And wait. We were basically a bizarre piece of white trash installation art. We should have charged for the privilege of slowing down to gawk.
Tow truck driver gets there and--well--let's just say he was a couple tacos short of a combo. Real nutter. He pulls the truck onto the flatbed. We climb into the cab and drive over to Aggieland Automotive, drop off the truck, fill out a key drop envelope, and head back to the apartment.

This couldn't have happened at a worse time. We're supposed to be moving this weekend. Dave is supposed to work tomorrow. I have a bridal shower and a puppy adoption. I mean, seriously! Jay-sus in a sidecar! Just a break, one little break is all I want.

Anywho. I'm done venting. Going to make dinner now.