3(ER) + Exploding Brakes = My Week
As I pulled up to the stop sign on the way to Bible Study last Tuesday, loud metallic clangs came from the left front of my car. I limped the half block to church; found a ride home; and had the car towed to the garage. Their report: Your left front brake rotor exploded. There was no warning. I'm just glad it happened when and where it did. In two weeks I'll be traveling 600 miles to Mom's house on superslabs. The almost $800 bill (brakes, door bushings and short in the electric locks) wasn't so good.
Then Thursday afternoon, I decided to cut down the thistles in the meadow before they went to seed. I love the purple flowers but I know they will take over if I'm not diligent. Samson, our yellow lab, was romping around the meadow and ran right into the thistle I was cutting. I ducked my head to minimize damage, but part of the thistle went into my eye. Friday morning it was still there, so I drove to the ER. They took out a small piece but 12 hours later it was getting worse. So back to the ER to finish the job. The eye is fine now.
Then this morning, we made another trip to the ER with Ricky who has an ear infection. Antibiotics and pain medicine will cure him quickly.
Not from my parents who weren't even nominally superstitious, but somewhere I heard that bad things come in threes. I've always wondered when you start and stop counting. And once you hit three, do you start counting again?
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