I thought I had put this behind me. This being the whole spontaneous dying of my car battery and having to humbly solicit the help of others in order to get myself home. I figured that the tendency to do that on a far too regular basis had died with lil Turbo (may he rest in pieces).
But alas, today as I rushed out to the car in order to get a Diet Coke refreshment for the afternoon at Maverick, the car failed to start. I panicked. Just a little. See, this car is newer, but has a whole lot of miles on it (331,000 to be exact, still in incredible shape, at an incredible deal). I have had this secret fear that something would go wrong, as is want to happen in my life lately (ripped my pants, spilled nail polish on the carpet, put on a supposedly newly clean shirt for my first day of the new job only to discover half way to work that the odd smell I had been trying to place was in fact cat pee, and was in fact coming from me resulting in a mad dash to Smith's marketplace to buy the first decent cheap shirt I saw, anyone want my cat?....you get the point).
Turns out that the headlights were left on. Funny, seeing as how it was light when I left this morning, and I never turned them on (at least to my knowledge). All I can figure is that seeing as how the lights and other gadgets are slightly different than in old Turbo, that I turned them on inadvertently. So I had to sheepishly ask new coworkers for assistance. The car wouldn't start at first (I really started to panic, on the inside, on the outside I remained cool and collected), readjusted the cables about 4 times and she started purring like a kitten that hopefully wont pee on my clothes.
Sometimes I think these things only happen to me. At least on such a consistent basis.