Why do I say that? Well, that's how I felt a couple of days ago when I had special plans of attending a Black Women's Brunch that I helped to plan. So let me start with that age-old ghetto-fabulous saying, See what had happened was...
First of all, I have been pretty ill this past month, really I haven't been feeling well since early July but these recent weeks have not been good. However, I was feeling some better and well enough to go to the intimate gathering of no more than twelve women.
The night before I took some chicken wings out the freezer and got up early the next day to prepare a homemade chicken dish made with lemon, spices, garlic and honey along with some seasoned rice garnished with parsley. While the chicken was simmering, I started getting ready, checking on it every so often. When the chicken was almost done, so was I. I didn't put on much make-up because I was running on less energy than usual but I had a pretty cute outfit on. I cooked some rice, seasoned it up, placed it in my one and only corning ware dish and put the saucey chicken wings on top of the rice.
I was ret ta GO! But here's where everything went as Beyonce's song says, to the left.
I went to grab my keys but they weren't in my regular spot which is on my keyring, generally hanging on or inside of my purse. I checked my dresser, Slim's dresser, all the places my husband may have left my keys because at this point, I remembered that my husband, Alvin (aka Slim) had used my car last. Once I couldn't find the keys anywhere, I called my husband and he couldn't remember where he put them.
Great.
I sent a text to my Sista-Friends to let them know what was happening. I didn't know if I'd make it but I was really hoping I would. Once my husband got home and found the keys, I would have about one and a half hours at the event so I was still planning to go, though I had an attitude with the man. He lovingly apologized and I could tell that he felt really bad.
Once I got everything loaded in my car, I had a low tire warning on the dashboard screen I started my car. UGGHHH!!! I thought about not going at this point but then I figured, if I could get some air pretty quick I could still make maybe an hour of the brunch. But in the interest of time, I decided to call a couple of local places first to make sure that they could sere me. I called the Jiffy Lube near me and the service representative I talked to said to come on in. He told me that they could help me and that it would only take them a few minutes to check tires and give me air.
I was optimistic. It took me about seven minutes to get to Jiffy Lube and once I got there, I pulled up to a possible space to be served. Here's where it went all the way left.
One of the JL specialists came to my window and I immediately let him know that I needed air in my front, right tire. That's when he said, "It will take a minimum of forty five minutes before I can help you."
What the WHAT!
I told him that I had just talked to one of his co-workers who said they could help me once I arrived. However, the man didn't bugde and reiterated the fact that it would be a minimum of 45 minuts.
Sitting in my car, I could feel the burn of tears behind my eyes. That's when I pulled over in that parking lot and had a good cry. I knew that I was mos' definitely NOT going to make the brunch.
It was a very disappointing Saturday. I already don't spend a lot of time in-person with people due to my respiratory disabilities, including severe asthma, allergies and fragrance sensitivities.
Even though I was disappointed and sad about not being able to make it, part of me wondered if there may have been a why that I wasn't aware of. Like maybe that tire would've blown out if I went or somehow God was protecting me from unseen dangers. Or maybe it was just the fact that sometimes things just don't work out.
This final pic is me sitting down on a stool in our closet, about to disrobe and put my comfy pajamas back on.
On a positive note. We've been eating on the chicken and rice dish for the last couple of days.
It was sooo delicious.