So, last night. Big Fried Chicken and corn pudding night. Or it would have been. Jeff quit his job after a record 6 days (don't worry, he starts a new, better job today) and so he called to ask if he could pick up groceries. I said no, no, I'll do it, since I don't trust anyone but myself to pick out things like chicken and corn.

This would have been fine, except when I got to my car, I noticed one of the tires? A little low. I pulled out of my lot and as I drove two feet, it was definitely flat. So I call Triple A, they come and put on the spare, and show me the lovely shard of glass in my tire. Then I have an internal debate about whether I should go get a new tire now, or can it wait, or what- and my terror of driving on the spare leads me to go straight to Pep Boys. At 5:45 I arrive, and they tell me good news- first, that I'll be out of there by 7, and second, that unless the tire is destroyed, they can patch it for $15. I figure dinner will be late, but I still have time to pick up groceries and cook.

At 7:15, they finally look at my car. And decide the gash is too big, so I have to get a new tire. At 8, I leave.

And pick up a Zankou Chicken. Some days you just have to scrap your plans.