When it rains acorns...it pours

So, I can't really vouch for the saying "When it rains, it pours". Seems to me that sometimes it just sprinkles (at least in Utah...I guess in Virginia it usually only pours, but all this is distracting from my point...). But I CAN tell you this: if acorns start falling from the sky, WATCH OUT...(yes, run don't walk, to the nearest exit) cuz life is about to go from amazingly good, to just...good?

It all started with acorns attacking on Wednesday, and finally ended (we hope) with a trip to the emergency room this afternoon. But there was oh-so-much in between...

We'll start at the beginning. If you know me at all, you know that I love my car. You also know that I hate dings. It's really that simple--love my car, hate dings. It's not neurotic, it's just...ok...so it's bordering on neurotic, but whatever. So, I take really good care of her. I opt to park away from other cars and get in a bit of exercise, I take the extra bit of time to find good parking spots...I'm careful. It's just how I am. One of my quirks. So, imagine my dismay, when I went to go somewhere Thursday morning and discovered about 10 dings on Tink's hood. "WHAT in the WORLD....." In 5 years, she's only had 1 ding. 1. So, this was catastrophic. What could have happened? I turned detective, spinning around, looking at the trees above me, picturing the little evil squirrels I love so much jumping down onto my car, having some kind of weirdo dance party... Or maybe it was that idiotic car wash I took her through, with those big mean brushes... Then I found the culprit. The horrible windstorm the day before had knocked tons of acorns (yes cute little acorns) out of the tree above my parking spot, and launched them like little missiles right at Tinky. I couldn't believe it, and I'm not going to lie, I cried just a bit. Yes, tears. By Friday morning, I was determined to be ok with it, at least for the weekend, because Brian and I were off for a fun-filled weekend away in Philadelphia. I was going to put it out of my mind. Yes, our suitcases were at the door, we were ready to go, I was happy...and BAM. Brian returned from taking out the garbage.

Him: "Uh...Am....shoot. I don't know how to...um... jeez...uh..." (hugging me)
Me: "What's wrong?"
Him: "Uh...I don't think we'll be leaving as soon as we thought."
Me: "What's wrong?" (trying not to start hyperventilating)
Him: "Well...your car..."
Me: "Tell me..." (really hyperventilating as I pictured the whole oak tree crashing down on Tink)
Him: "I went to take the trash out, and I noticed a smashed beer bottle by your car...so I went to look, and someone had thrown it into your car, cuz there's a big dent on the side,,,"
Me: "Are you serious?" (ready to slug him if he was kidding, and willing to forgive the oak tree if I could just get my hands around the neck of the obnoxious drunken teenager...)
Him: "Yes."

So, out we went and sure enough...nice dent in the door of my car. I couldn't believe it. Then I decided to look the rest of the car over, and to my horror (yes HORROR) the front panel of Tink was completely collapsed in as well, like someone had taken a bat to her, or thrown somebody into her. Sigh. Again, tears. This was getting to be unbelievable. I pulled it together, we took pictures, talked to management (worthless), called the police (apparently things like this are common enough that they don't even come out. You just file an online report. Sick world we live in!), filed a report, yada ya.


Again, I tried to put visions of car shops out of my head, and we got in Brian's car and headed to Philadelphia. But believe it or not, we're not through yet. The punches, they kept right on comin.
Friday night, Brian started coughing. A couple hours later, he had on sweats, and every blanket he could find but was still shaking. Then his head started killing him. About 3am, he woke me to tell me he was going to get some drugs. After pumping some Advil, he was able to sleep for a couple of hours, and actually felt well enough to site see all day Saturday. But by Saturday night...
his throat was killing him, and he was feverish, and achy. By this morning, he was just really, really ill. So we ex-nayed our Sunday site seeing plans, and started the walk to our parking garage to head home. I was relieved when we made it to the car--Bri was sick enough that walking there was almost too much for him. And I was worried about my safety--I had begun thinking I must have done something seriously wrong, and a lightening bolt might just be headed in my direction. :) Ah, safely in the car. The horrors over...

I slid in the driver's seat, and once Bri was nicely delirious in the passenger seat, I started the car....or tried to. Yes. I tried once...no start. Twice...no start. Three times. Nope. Can we say, "Dome light?". At this point, I just had to laugh hysterically. Honestly. After tracking down a nice guy for a jump (and ticking off a lot of people in the parking garage as we blocked their way doing it), we were on the road.

Half way home, Bri broke his half-out-of-it silence and requested I take him straight to the emergency room. We spent a few hours hanging out there, him in a mask and gown, and he was finally diagnosed with bronchitis, and possibly "the flu". He's been given drugs, and should be on the mend soon. But for now...passed out. :)

Quite the past few days, eh? :) I just thought I'd share the comedy of it all. And tell you all that I love you... you know, just in case an enormous pink hippo comes careening out of the sky and lands on me or something. At this point, it seems quite possible! ha ha ha. I always think that the mishaps make the memories, but seriously... ????? :)

The good news is, we still managed to have a great time in Philadelphia (on Saturday at least :)) and see some pretty cool things. And our life is still pretty stinkin good I suppose :).

Here's the pictures!