I was sadly examining a favorite grey, white, red and green sweater I had knitted, and was finding that a wretched moth had eaten up most of the grey parts, leaving me with a useless and ugly wad of yarn. Just then, I heard a tap, tap on the door, woke up and was relieved to realize that I was having a bad dream. Knowing that it was Rebecca ready to go for our morning run, and thinking that perhaps she had not brought her key, I staggered down to let her in. In a haze, I made us tea and got my ugly running outfit on. I always gasp, moan, and complain about my suffering for our whole run. It is, I suppose, a good kind of suffering. But suffering nonetheless. Afterward, I had errands to do, and noble Rebecca agreed to go with me to keep me company, despite having many tasks of her own. Margaret wanted to come too, and I had misgivings about that, but she was pathetic, and we let her come along. Our errands took us through a construction area in Chinatown on and shortly after we passed through the construction, we heard a “chunkita, chunkita,” sound coming from the rear of the car. I pulled over to check the tires, but they looked okay. We went on our way, and as we went, the chunkita waxed and waned. Rebecca was nervously visualizing the axel breaking, and I was sadly visualizing spending lots of money on car repairs. We decided to go to Hilltop gas station and see if they could diagnose the problem. They immediately diagnosed a flat tire. Margaret, who loves Hilltop because it means a dog cookie, was thrilled, but Rebecca and I were not. It would take about a half hour for them to get to it. Aaargh! My milk would get sour. They said I could leave it in their refrigerator, so we deposited it among their lunches, gathered up Margaret and Rebecca’s groceries and staggered off, laden like little pack mules, to Rebecca’s house to have a cup of tea and wait out the half hour.
We still had an errand or two, so we returned, got the car with its fixed tire, and proceeded on with our shopping. As we went down the road, we both felt that we were still hearing a subtle “chunkita, chunkita.” We went to the bank and the pharmacy and then made our way back to Hilltop. Margaret was ecstatic. Two visits to dog cookie heaven in one day! The fellow who had helped with front tire heard the “chunkita, chunkita” as we drove in, this time from a rear tire. It had a huge big unbelievable thing stuck in it. Double aargh! But, once again, they fixed it. I delivered Becca to her house, returned home myself, and feeling that I needed comfort, sought out a secret cache of Cadbury’s Eggs that I had bought on sale after Easter. I had one, and it made me feel a little better, so I had another and it made me feel sick. Really sick. I took to my bed and inwardly cursing myself for being a piggy, and whining about my upset tummy. A nap did not really help. Margaret, on the other hand, was having as marvelous a day as I was having a horrible one. Two visits to Hilltop and than an afternoon in bed with Mom. What could be better?