Today isn't the worst day of my life, but it's shaping up to be pretty darn crappy.
We were going to head out to the swap meet at Aloha Stadium today. I decided to stop and fill up the gas tank on the way out. After I filled the tank, the car wouldn't start. A nice man next to us offered to try giving my battery a jump. He did his best, but the Honda just wasn't having any of it.
Well, if the car is going to die, the service station is the place to do it. I walked inside, explained my predicament gave them my keys, and the five of us walked home. At least we weren't all the way into Honolulu when this happened. (I'm looking for the silver lining here.)
I've been on pins and needles all day waiting to hear if the Honda is going to survive, or if I'm going to be out shopping for a new vehicle this week. I've called twice already and they can't tell me anything yet. (ETA: It's the distributor and they can't get the part until Monday.)
This is one of those crummy things that happens when your husband is deployed. Things that would normally fall into his lap are now in my lap and I don't want to be the one making these decisions. Do I have the car fixed? Is it worth the money? Should I just buy something new? I want Kerry to decide what's a good deal on a car. I want him to decide if we should fix the Honda. I want him to do the dickering and bickering.