It all started when the guy that lives with us flattened the front of our vehicle when he met another vehicle when sliding through an icy intersection.
No, let's back up. A few weeks prior, I was taking Allison to the dentist. Now in Poland parking spaces are all meant for compact fiats not mini vans. I was wheeling into a promising looking parking spot when I kissed the fender of an innocent car beside me. Horrified, I parked and climbed out. I rubbed the scratch and it seemed to disappear to my relief. I needed to find the owner, but I had no idea where he was in the three floors of this public building. And what would I do if I did find him. I had no idea how to tell him in Polish what happened. Many bumpers in Poland sport dents and scratches, but I still wanted to be honest. I took Allison into the building and when I returned later, I saw the car speeding away. I still feel a tinge of guilt about that.
But back to my story. The same day, I rode with John and sat in the car while he was doing some business stops. Wouldn't you know...a little car backed right smack into the front fender of our van with a thud. It must have been a prediction of things to come because there have been no end of problems since.
Now, after the accident the taillights worke, but after the body was repaired they stopped. Now this isn't such a good idea, since in Poland it is mandatory that headlights be used 24 hours a day from October to March. I had to take our Polish teacher home one night. I was nervous because I could see darkness was coming. So, I did the little step-on-the-brake when another car was following me, but it always made me nervous that when I would try to actually stop, the behind car wouldn't be able to tell. I breathed a sigh of relief when that was fixed.
But now, the red limousine has another idosycracy. The car won't go into park, so when you need to start the car, you must put it into neutral. And of course, if you park on a bit of a hill, it will roll without the emergency brake. So, again I had to drive my Polish teacher around town. I stopped at two stores and each time I had to set the brake. I too late remembered that John said it was rather hard to release it, but I soon found that out. I pushed and pushed with my left foot, only to discover that it wasn't going to budge. So, I opened my door, stepped down and pushed with my right foot. It released suddenly and at the same time began to roll backwards. I heard a gasp from the backseat as I hopped onto the driver's seat and pressed the brake. Whew! This scene repeated itself, exactly. I was worn out. I returned home as quickly as possible and informed my husband that this is ridiculous. Something else is going to happen if we don't get it fixed. He solemnly agreed, but who knows when.
So, for now, we are reversing when we are actually parking, driving when we want to be in neutral, and never able to exactly park. The joys of the old red limousine. I'm wiping my brow wondering what will happen next.
There! That makes me feel better! I... ...detest ...abhor ...despise mending. I'm sure those of you who are virtuous mothers are shaking their heads and wondering what is the matter with me. I don't know where I missed it, but the pile of mending in my sewing center makes me cringe with hatred. Why do I wait until all of Allison's dresses are missing a button before I finally, grudgingly get out my needle and thread? Why does a dress hang for two years in my closet with chopped off sleeves that are only waiting for one seam? Why do John's Sunday pants lay over my bedroom chair for weeks before I finally get around to sewing the loophole back on? I've always hated repairing clothes. When I learned to sew and sewed my sleeve in upside down, I would have rather started all over than to tear out the one little seam. Mending is such a tedious chore. But today, when I finally got around to sewing on six buttons on six dresses, sewing up a hole in the back of another, and...
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