AUTHOR: Carolyn Savage | POSTED: September 27, 2012 | COMMENTS: 6 Comments
I lost me keys. Not my everyday set. You know the one that would cause concussive injuries if ever dropped on a small child’s head. Nope, not those. The other set. The set that harbors only a car key, remote and a tiny little joybby-doo that I think unlocks a suitcase that I haven’t owned since the 90’s.
I actually didn’t even know they were lost. That is…until I found them…in the most precarious spot.
Rewind a few days when Drew woke me in the middle of the night quite perturbed. My car horn was going off, and as he slumbers directly above our garage, it seems he was unable to sleep through the intermittent blaring.
Drew Mom…Your car alarm is going off.
Me I don’t have a car alarm. Go back to bed.
Drew Well then the horn in your car is possessed. Make it stop.
After a half conscious investigation, I confirmed that indeed, my car horn was beeping as if the panic button on my remote had been activated. I turned it off, with little to know thought as to what had caused it, let our cat out the back door to avoid her early morning wake up call, and crawled back into bed. Problem solved?
Apparently my car horn had a bug up its butt, because the damn thing went off mutliple times the next day and night. So, I relented and visited Mike at my dealership. Oh…you don’t know Mike? Yes you do. He’s the nice service man at the dealership who snickers while licking his chops, knowing that he’s about to find multiple electronic malfunctions in your car by running a $300 computer test that oddly resembles the paddles used to restart a heart. I swear I’ll never understand how a computer diagnostic on a car can cost more than an x-ray of my sinuses…neither of which I needed…but I digress.
I left my car at the dealership over the weekend to no avail. The horn didn’t go off. The diagnostic tests turned up nothing I wanted to fix. I was thoroughly annoyed.
Upon arriving home, I sat down to give MK a breathing treatment. When I turned the nebulizer off, the horn was doing its thing again. What the hell?
And that’s when it hit me.
I was sitting in the most coveted chair in our family room. Not only do the boys prefer it for their round-the-clock ESPN viewing, but it’s a rocker that I use to feed the girls’ their bottles. Even our cat has a thing for sitting on it’s back.
I quickly stood up and flipped the chair over, and low and behold…look what I found!
Apparently even the cat can rock the damn chair, depressing the panic button, causing the car horn to go bonkers.
So this little escapade cost me $300, two days without a car, and the hour it took to clean the bottom of that chair.
I won’t even tell you what I found wedged in the cushions, but I will be talking to the boys about using a trash can for their popsicle sticks.