My Mama told me there’d be days like this

Van Morrison’s “My Mama told me there’s be days like this” has long been one of my wry favourites.  Usually it makes me smile.  Except on real days “like this.”

Which was today.  First I bit into a prune I thought was pitted but wasn’t, and the prune won, breaking a molar and exposing a raw nerve.  So I set off to the dentist to find out my destiny – an extraction? a root canal? a cap?  In the end, I had a discussion with the dentist about just how long I was apt to need it.  I told her I’d been having that very discussion with a friend yesterday who is preparing for retirement.  She said she felt the need for a “use by date” so she could estimate how long she needed to make her finances last.  Anyway, we settled on a cap.  That may have been the highlight of my day.

As I was driving the car out of the parking lot, I ran over a piece of metal.  It made a ghastly foreboding noise, and within a block I knew something was very wrong.  It was in the middle of Cambridge but I was able to pull to the side of the road to inspect the damage.  The tire was slashed and already just inches off being flat enough to be running on the metal rim.

In an emergency I can change a tire myself but it is a busy urban road,  the tire is heavy, and I wasn’t dressed for the job.  I decided to call the AA for assistance.

My cell phone was completely un-charged.

The car recharger was in the other car.

At that point a British Telecom repair van pulled in front of us, so I got out to ask him for advice.  I was secretly hoping  he might make the call to the AA for me  but the best he could suggest was that I walk about a 100 years to the kiosk of the Botanic Gardens and ask to use their phone.

So I did that.  The kiosk attendant offered to use her phone but it doesn’t connect to 800 numbers.  She helpfully directed me to another phone.

When I got through to the AA, I realized I had not memorized the number of our new license plate, and since the car was 100 yards down the road, I couldn’t see what it was.  And of course, I couldn’t give a phone number to the repairman in case he had trouble finding me.

So I promised to stand by the car “in a long blue coat” to flag him down.

I tripped on a non-existent hole in the sidewalk running back to the car and made a public spectacle sprawled on the ground.  It was embarrassing but I wasn’t hurt.

It started to rain just before the repairman arrived, but he put on the spare, which is one of those light-weight substitutes that you can’t drive on more than 50 mph.  I didn’t mind.

It got me home.

As Mama said, there will be days like this.

Between a new tire and a tooth repair, it was a little unexpectedly expensive.  On the other hand, if days like this never get any worse, I may need the cap on my tooth to last quite a long time.