If Bad Things Come In Threes, I've Met My Quota - Right?

This has to have been the longest day of my life. I swear. And I'm glad it's at least half over.

Yesterday I had to have the crank sensor replaced in my Dodge minivan. And thanks to Dodge's wonderful design, the mechanic had to "feel" his way to replacing it.

Once it was replaced, it still had trouble starting. It would, after three or four tries. Then it was still throwing errors. Why? Because the new crank sensor didn't recognize the start cylinder. Fortunately that's just a matter of one computer telling another what to do. And, thank goodness, our mechanic is a neighbor and friend so we don't even have to take it in to the shop.

But as I'm driving to school this morning, the oil light comes. Oh joy! When I first started driving, my father drilled it into my head that if the oil light comes on, you check it....NOW!

So I do. Or try to. Unfortunately this is when I realized that I'm going to have to break down and buy myself a pair of cheap reading glasses. (To invest more money would mean I have to admit I have a problem, and I'm not there yet) I kept having to hold the stick out, bring it in, hold it out - you get the picture, trying to see if where the oil was on the stick. I finally remembered my Daddy telling me if you see any on the stick, you've got about two quarts - enough to get somewhere.

I'm still driving around on that theory, waiting for my husband, who isn't blind, to check it. (If I don't burn the engine out, right?)

And I'm also trying to plan Big Brother's Halloween party. I had all these cute little menu ideas. I'll give you the short version of how that turned out: people who are not creative should not be party planners.

Know what I mean?

To add to these headaches, as I'm running like a chicken with its head cut off trying to gather the rest of the Halloween party stuff, Bigger Brother calls to ask me to bring his ROTC uniform to the high school.

He forgot it was uniform day. And he doesn't want to be dismissed.

FINE! I take it. Back to party stuff.

Big Brother calls again. It's also picture day, he needs his ACUs. WTH??!!

If it hadn't been for pictures, I'd told him "Too bad, hate it for ya." Instead, I opted to ream him on the phone, tell him it's the last time, and he better learn to get his &!@# organized.

Want to place any bets with me on whether it's really the last time?