So yesterday morning was the first chance my Favorite Husband had to look at the Deathtrap. I just naturally assumed I would drive him to work and then take his car--wait, let's make that MY car, my beloved little reliable Taco--to run my oh-so-important errands. But it turned out he wasn't going to the office, but rather visiting a half dozen clients a gazillion miles away, so once again our beloved Mojo must scramble for her very existence. She responds like a Viking, by calling Mommy and Daddy and begging them to pick her up and chauffer her everywhere she whimsically desires. Which they do, either due to Mojo's magical charms and/or her screeching threats to expose their childhood cruelty toward her, aka ye olde You Never Bought Me a Pony routine.

So my poor beleaguered Favorite Mother picked me up at the crack of dawn (oh, look, since Mojo gets up at ungodly hours she now forces those who associate with her to do the same!) and drove me around, and then dropped me off where I needed to be dropped off. And then my Favorite Father came and picked me up and took me shopping for car accessories and then bought me dinner. So I made out like a bandit.

So what's wrong with the car THIS time? people are groaning. Something that I have noticed on three other separate occasions, and promptly pushed out of my simple little head. I've parked the car at the grocery store and dashed in to get something--like the new cheddar-flavored Triscuits, which I find delicious in a chemical orange-cheese-powder sort of way--and when I come out and look lovingly at my car I realize that my brake lights are still on. Sticky switch somewhere in the system. And I think to myself, oh, look, isn't that odd; my brake lights are on...oh, look, something shiny! Because the car starts just fine and the next time I stop the car I obsessively look at the lights and they're off.

So Monday I went to my Favorite Older Sister's house and stole some manure from her for the garden. (Don't tell her--I've been telling her I've driven past her house just for ha-has and caught people stealing manure from her. So she doesn't know it's me.) So anyway, I drive the manure home, and back the car up to the garden to take the stuff out (it's in big five-gallon buckets) and then go park the car. And since the car was positioned in a certain way, I ended up backing it into its usual parking space instead of nose in. And hence I did not notice that when I got out of the car, my brake lights were still on.

They weren't on in the morning, of course. The whole car was deader than the proverbial doornail. Not even clicking when you turn the key. Now THAT's dead!

Anyway, yesterday morning before my Favorite Husband left he jumped it and tah-dah, the car starts up. So it WAS the battery--a totally dead battery. I wasn't about to drive it all over creation unless it was charged up, so my beloved Favorite Parental Units drove me around. And at some point during the day I bought a plug-into-the-wall battery charger. And left it on for half the night. I was planning on leaving it on all night, but as usual with my luck I woke up in the middle of the night to the gentle sound of rain dropping on it, so I thought it best to bring it inside since electricity and rain are not the best of buds.

This morning it starts like a charm. So far.

The countdown continues....

Mojo