This week was just weird. Seriously. Or maybe it was just the last couple of days.
On Wednesday, I managed to wake up sick again (um, this makes 4 or 5 times since December?), get to work late, and spill coffee all over my skirt. ALL OVER. One of my students even nicknamed me "coffee skirt." Thankfully, a very smart co-worker informed me that Clorox wipes work just as well as Tide wipes (which nobody had on hand). You really do learn something new everyday. Keep those Clorox wipes handy!
Last night, Logan and I decided to be rather adventurous on a weeknight and go to the French Quarter. Logan's brother is in a band, and they were playing at Hard Rock Cafe. So, we made a night of it, first reminiscing the night of our engagement - eating at the same restaurant and walking along the river to the spot that Logan proposed. It was a good night.
I just need to add that we decided to find a free parking spot on a street, as opposed to paying $15 or so to park in a lot. As we were walking back to the car to go home, Logan does what he always does, saying over and over, "I hope my car is there." It's not like he says it because he's expecting his car not to be there, because it always is there - he's just weird and thinks about the possibility of his car disappearing somehow. So, there we are, walking down a street. Then we turn the corner where we're expecting to see his beloved car parked - her name is Pegasus, by the way - and you know what? His car wasn't there. That really has got to be one of the strangest feelings, expecting to find your car right where you left it, and it's gone.
You know what my first reaction was? I laughed. Not even kidding. I must be psychotic.
We're standing there, in the middle of New Orleans, at 10:30 at night (totally past my bedtime), and we have no car. Awesome.
There was a restaurant nearby, and one of the employees informed us that our car was towed. It was rather ridiculous, really, because although there was a temporary no parking sign, it said it was for Saturday, February 5. And yesterday was Thursday, February 24. But whatever.
Thankfully, a friend who had also gone to Hard Rock hadn't left yet. I'm not sure how (I think we can thank his I-Phone?), but the guys found the place that had the car, and our friend gave us a ride so we could rescue poor Pegasus. By the time all that happened and we were finally on our way home, it was almost 11:30 (wayyyy past my bedtime). Oh, and we were $165 poorer. Even more awesome.
Of course, Logan and I are both very thankful that the situation wasn't worse - like, the car being stolen, or not having anybody give us a ride. Whew.
So what have we learned here? Always park in a damn lot. Unless, of course, you want to risk having free parking turn into $165, because there are some overly excited towing companies out there. Just saying.