Worst. Monday. Ever.

I had a delightful Spring Break. I got to sleep in every day. I got to bake muffins. I got to watch Seasons 1-3 of the Office. I went to see Monsters vs. Aliens with some friends Friday night and thoroughly enjoyed it- it was hi-LAR-ious. I enjoyed spending General Conference weekend with Juli (including a lovely picnic between sessions on Saturday and a nice lunch with her friends, the Leamings, between sessions on Sunday).

Then Monday hit. Hard. Literally.

Even though I was running a couple of minutes late, I was blithely driving along at about 35 mph (which happened to be the speed limit- weird, I know...) when I felt (and heard) a very jarring, nerve-grating thunking, crunching clunk on my front passenger tire. I slowed down even more and drove carefully the half-block it took to get to a nearby gas station. I was hoping for the best, fearing the worst. In the light of the gas station, the worst was revealed. I had a flat tire due to the dent in the rim caused by the obnoxiously large (and deep) pothole I had driven over.

No biggie, I thought. It's a good thing I know how to change a tire, right? I pulled out the donut in my trunk, located the jack and lugnut wrench, and tried to get to work.

No can do, apparently. I felt like such a pansy, trying to jack up the car and struggling with every crank of the jack. Still, I persevered, only to discover that the jack had started to lean at an angle. So, I uncranked the jack, reset it at a flatter point, and tried again. Still, after a certain point, it began to lean again (It never occurred to me that the car had probably started to roll a little). By this time, I was tired, freezing, wet (while I *hate* snow in April, I think it was somewhat lucky that it was not rain, or I would have been a lot more wet), and very, very frustrated and discouraged.

At this point, I just wanted to call a tow service to change the tire for me, regardless of the price. Unfortunately, no one seemed to be open at 7:00 a.m. Finally, one of the cashiers in the gas station sweet talked one of her regular customers into doing it--in exchange, she promised to buy him a pack of cigarettes and a 6-pack of beer. So, out he went. After about 10-15 long minutes of waiting, he returned to tell me he was done. I felt a little awkward taking his service in exchange for things I am morally opposed to- I offered to pay him, but he declined.

So. For a pack of cigarettes and a 6-pack of beer, I got my tire changed. I was late to school. I was tempted to just call off, take the day to settle my frazzled nerves, and be ready to try again tomorrow. However, I stuck it out, drove slowly the rest of the way to school, praying that the donut would hold out. Now, I pray it will hold out long enough to get me to the dealer to see if they can't fix the stupid, dented rim.

Grrr. I hate Mondays.