The Venomous Hubby is in Thailand until next weekend. Although I usually drop him off at the airport, this time he decided to drive himself there because his return flight lands well after the Big-Eyed Boy’s bedtime. So, what happens?

The transmission on my Jeep died today. It took an hour of begging and pleading to convince my insurance company that the mechanic they wanted to tow my car to didn’t know the first thing about transmissions. When I finally got them to realize this, they agreed to take the Jeep all the way to town. The only problem? The tow driver refused to let me ride to town with him, which meant I got to take a $40 cab ride. Joy.

Then, as luck would have it, the repair shop won’t have a chance to do any work on the Jeep tomorrow and since they’re Mormon their shop is closed on Sunday. So if they can get to it Monday, then they’ll let me know how much it’s going to cost and how long it’ll take to repair my Jeep.

Oh, and did I mention that I’m driving a white minivan until I get my Jeep back? The pain. Oh, the pain.