Things fall apart

One plus one equals two. But, apparently, 2 minus 1 equals supernova.

My husband and I often have tiffs about the fact that he seems to think I'm useless on my own, and I usually beg to differ. Ok, perhaps, I exaggerate. Phrased differently, I excite paternal neurons, and induce protective proteins, and end up thoroughly coddled.

So, this year, as most years, he goes away for the holidays, and here is where the fun begins.

First, there is a snow storm, and a scary message pops up on my dash: REFILL WASHER FLUID! scary, because I don't know what washer fluid IS.

Then, I'm forced to dig out my car four times, all by my lonesome.

Then, I get pulled over for speeding, for the first time in what, fifteen years?! (By the way, I totally pulled the doctor card: "I'm a doctor and I'm going to work, here is my ID." It worked too. Got a written warning and got to keep my clean slate.)

Finally, as the straw that definitively destroyed the camel's back, my pee turns pink...

That may be personal to share, but you gotta understand, I'm thinking I'm dying of a terrible disease! I even dipsticked it for blood and other evidence of impending doom. I kept thinking, "But I feel so good, I feel so normal, how could I be dying...?"

A moderately frantic call to my mother and...

Diagnosis?

Beets. Roasted beets with feta cheese and balsamic the night before.

Some doctor.

And to top it all off, the final bang of the supernova happened when I had that ass assault call, the worst call EVER...

So, I usually beg to differ, but when shit hits the fan, there is no denying that there is truth to his madness. Thank GOD he eventually came back: pee turned back to normal, washer fluid was filled... can't do much about the speeding but my point still stands.