I hate car trouble …. I hate Monday morning car trouble more …

There are few things that interest me less than a discussion about cars.  After you have told me the colour of your car, I have pretty much lost all interest.

And I do believe that red cars go faster.  They just do.

I would rather chat about your period cycle and the consistency of your fecal matter than discuss your car.  It is so far on the list of things that interest me, I can’t even fake interest.

I love having a car.  I love driving a car.

I love the freedom of deciding where I am going to go and when I will get there.  I love all those things that put me in a car seat, with a set of car keys and a working car.

That is about where my interest starts to wane.

This morning I climbed into my car, as I always do.  I checked everyone was accounted for and buckled up.

I put on a Jane Austen Audio CD, which might have been the “tipping point” factor for this morning.

I reversed out of my garage and became aware that my car was not really reversing as much as performing a jarring series of movements that placed my vehicle in the general direction of the public road.

I have no way of “fixing” if the car is not working.

In my world, a car is either turned on or turned off.   I tend to look at it and speak in quiet whispering tones that invoke religion, but other than that, I do not have much to remedy a non-working vehicle.

My car spluttered, and paused, and refused to allow me to coax any speed or power out of it.  I started to get very irritated.  Then I got worried I was driving my kids in a stupid car, which could blow up, or the wheels fly off as always occurs in movies and cartoons.

I pulled to the side of the road, put my hazards on and climbed out the car.  I marched around the car.  It’s all in the confident foot stride I believe.

I perused the offending vehicle – gawd alone knows what I was looking for.

I really was hoping for one of those “acme red arrows” you see in cartoons which clearly points to the problem …… I figured I might see a half dead coyote gnawing on the bumper, then I could go “ah, that is the reason for this problem.”

But no coyote.  No part of car dragging on the floor.

I checked that all four tyres.  They were four tyres.  They were on.

That pretty much ended where my capabilities lie in being able to remedy a broken car.

I also lightly kicked the front passenger tyre – I see that a lot in movies and it usually gets some sort of reaction.

I declined to “pop the hood” – if 1/2 the engine was missing, I would not have been any the wiser.  I thought it was rather pointless to take this “illusion of checking my car” any further than a cursory walk around and sniff the air.

I continue driving in my pause-pause-kick forward-pause-pause-hiccup method.

It was a long drive.  It was a painful drive.  And I got very angry.  I dropped kids off.   I did not drop them off so much as they climbed out as my car came to a shuddering halt!

I totally forgot my entire CBT mantra of dealing with issues and rationalising how you feel about something, and then control how you feel rather than getting overwhelmed by a things that happen.  If you realise you cannot control something, but can control how you feel, then it is easier to adjust your reaction to mild annoyance, rather than overwhelming anger and screaming at the cat.

Anger is pointless and difficult to deal with, whilst frustration is just that, a mild annoyance you can deal with.  Or so my flipfile says.

I sort of forgot that little “life lesson” as I cussed and carried on my 20km/h drive, and then got angry and angrier, and started to “create an epic catastrophe situation”

I had flash backs that as a kid we ALWAYS had this sh8t cars that were always breaking down, or you could not stop at a stop street, else they would stall, and they were generally of the Cortina variety.  I have always had reliable vehicles, my car has been more likely to get stolen than break down.

Not this morning.

I also got more angry that I called Kennith 8 times and he did not answer.   Funny, how this all became his fault.

I was not angry he did not answer (I was just irritated).  But I needed something to get angry at him about as I was already fkd off at my car, and being more angry at that did seem rather pointless and somewhat futile.

I got angry at Kennith because when ever he calls me and I do not answer, when I do answer, I get a 4 minute lecture that I NEVER answer my cell phone, which is a rather moot point as I am on my cell phone, which I answered, getting the lecture for not answering.  <sigh>

I could not reach Kennith.  I limped home in said car.  I phoned Kennith’s mom who kindly agreed to take me to work.

I am on my third cup of tea as I wait for my lift.

I hate broken cars.  I hate dealing with broken cars.  It makes me feel poor and at risk of having to use public transport.

I hate waiting for someone to fetch and carry me anywhere!

Monday has not got off to a great start …..

<Booked car in for Wednesday morning for a repair.  Arranged for Georgia to get home from school, and Kennith arranged a drive to work and back schedule until I have my car back.  We know that the car fix bill is going to around R5000.00 or something equally stupid!!  Fk!>

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What the hell is it about Mondays?

So we went cabining, which I believe is not camping.

To be honest cabining is about as close to camping as I plan to get.  The cabin’s inner walls did not go to the ceiling, so if you were frying an egg in the kitchen, you could and did have a full going conversation with the person who was using the toilet.

Georgia was also really excited that her bedroom was in the kitchen, which it was.  So really it sounds like camping to me.

But I am taking away from how incredibly good these cabins in Swellendam were.  They were placed at the foot of the Langeberg and to say it was totally exquisite, would be to do it a disservice.  You literally stood on the stoep and went “wow!”

We had a lovely little dam right in front of our cabins.  The cabins were very well organized and super clean.  The views were breath-taking and it was really divine – within 10 minutes you felt like all your worries had floated away.

Sure you then started to worry how you were going to get your wine cold while you waited for the gas fridges to cool down – but then I have a Kennith, who had stopped at the local Swellendam Drankwinkel and bought me ice, so really I had nothing to worry about.

Farmer guy gave us permission to go into the berry fields and pick berries until we puked – he did not actually say that, but I took it that it was implied.

We did – and I just want to use this opportunity to comment that child-labour is alive and flourishing in Swellendam.  Kennith paid Connor R50.00 to go and fill up a tupperware container, which by Woolworth’s prices would cost about 3 million rand to purchase in store, full of berries.

We were not given the same freedom with the pigs.  But we did eat bacon for breakfast – which was supplied by a distant cousin of the pigs we saw.  We did feel a little guilty as the pigs we saw were quite sweet.

It really was a lovely weekend and I cannot recommend  Fazenda Log Cabins more.  If you are sitting there thinking, hmm, that sounds good, then contact Ina Ross on 0724997879 or drop her an email on iross1@telkomsa.net

No, she is not paying me to punt the cabins, but they were really good, and we are definitely going to head out there again.  It is a total get away from it all.

We went along with two other bloggers and their significant others and off-spring.

It is amazing what a few bottles of wine/beer and a large fire will do to suddenly make everyone all chummy.

I think for the girls it was easier, as though we did not know each other in the biblical sense, we did feel we knew each other, so spending time together felt quite easy.  I like the part where we could just sit on the porch in silence and look out at the scenery!

The boys however did have to stand around the braai and bond over boerewors and beer, but they were fine and seemed to enjoy it as well.

Overall a really good weekend – we felt well rested and all in-tune with nature and stuff.  Kids were dirty and exhausted, which is always a sign they had a good time.

Karma has a funny way of reminding me that she is alive and rules the world – so Sunday night and Monday morning went for a bit of a crock of crap, just to show me the balance in the universe.

Georgia was on high energy the entire weekend – so she was a bit trying – which is not like her, but anyway.

She insisted on singing her school concert song pretty much the entire way on the drive back, until she fell asleep from exhaustion.  Now I am all for encouraging kids to sing and be expressive, but right now I am all concert-songed out!

When we got home to home-sweet-home, we realized how stressful it is to do house renovations, so as soon as we arrived home and started stepping over the dust and plaster, we started to feel a bit stressed.

Added to it that our DSTV was not getting a signal, and we no longer had the luxury of warm water.

Our geezer has been very temperamental of late, and right now it has decided to err on the side of no hot water.

We decided to take the kids and head out for dinner at the Spur.  Add Georgia singing the concert song again and bouncing off Spur furniture, and it was slightly less than a pleasant evening out.

We got home, threw kids into a bath – Kennith boiled pots and kettles and then kids got into bed – see we even took the camping theme home with us.

Once kids were in bed, Kennith and I sort of fell down in an exhausted heap ourselves.

Unfortunately I had a little fall on Saturday night – which I would love to blame on the copious intake of alcohol – but instead I need to blame the gravel and the combination of slip-slops and my stupidity.

I pretty much went head-over-tit with Isabelle in my arms.  My focus was on falling backwards and not forwards – so as not to damage her further.  Which I believe I did judging by my elegant landing.

My left leg however did one of those bend-out-backwards-in-a-direction-only-barbie-dolls-made-by-matel-should-be-able-to-do.  My back did appear to take the full brunt of the fall – as well as my pride.

The reason for this little sidebar story is that on Sunday I was feeling quite sore, and by  the time I crawled into bed on Sunday night I was whimpering.

I fell asleep only to be awakened by Connor screaming and apologizing simultaneously.  Like screaming like a mad man screaming!

I dashed/limped down the passage – switched on his light to find him puking giant great-dane-sized throw-up heaps of vomit (listen, there is just no polite way of putting this).  But while he is puking he is apologizing to me for puking …

I must confess had I had more time I would have found this endearing.

But he was sleeping at the top of his double bunk and thus puking off the bunk.  The chunks were splattering against the wall, as it made it’s way down to settle into his toy box!

Fantastic.

Kennith does not do puke – at all – so I knew that it would be safer to send him out of the room, else odds are I would be dealing with his puking as well.  I was sure my sense of humour was not equipped to deal with ore puke at 2am.

Connor clearly felt grim.  I can’t say at that point that I was feeling much better.

He did have a roaring temperature, so I cleaned him up, the bed up, the wall up, the toy box up, the floor up, then the side of the bucket up – I retch-retched a bit in sympathy – and then gave him some Panado, and sat with him for a bit.

Once I got the odour of I-ate-Spur-for-dinner-and-now-have-hurled-it-up-in-chunks smell off my hands, I fell into bed at about 3am, and whimpered before I fell asleep.

Isabelle woke up at 5am, and normally she goes back to sleep.  But she could clearly sense the fact that I was not having a good morning and decided to scream in that I-want-someone-to-come-get-me-out-of-my-cot-right-this-damn-minute tone. I wish I could say I ran there immediately – but I did sort of lie there for a few moments the hope that she was playing a joke and would go back to sleep.

It appears the joke was on me.  So I dragged myself through to collect her and that is pretty much when the morning got going.

Of course there was no hot water for a shower.  Every muscle in my body ached.  I was so sleep deprived that I could not actually sit up vertically.

I decided to go in to work late as my back was really killing me and I figured a two hour sleep would be just what the doctor ordered, along with two syndols and a cup of tea.

The arrival of the plumbers with the jack hammers had other ideas, and had scant regard for my need to sleep.

The thing I learnt was that sometimes you are exhausted enough to sleep through the noise of a jack hammer, but not for very long.  45 minutes seemed the maximum before I had to sort of roll myself out of bed and down the passage and attempt to colour co-ordinate my wardrobe for work.

So all in all, not a great start to the week, and easily – added to a few other issues on my Monday – I can say that this day sucked with a large fat zerbit kinda suck!