Irony is a Low Tire

I had the day planned.

I slept well.

I ate well.

I was planning to shave my legs this morning.

But such perfect planning is bound to go awry. The hairs on the back of my neck said all was not well when my husband left for work and I started to get dressed.

My hair was thickly lathered with shampoo when my husband knocked on the bathroom door.

"Um, hey, babe?" he called out.

I knew it.

"Yeah?" I answered, with eyes scrunched up under tea-tree shampoo foam.

He breaks the news.

"The tires on the rental car are low, so I'm going to have to air them up before I leave and maybe take the car back to the rental place."

Thus missing a morning of work. Thus possibly needing the truck to drive and/or me to meet him at the rental place...thus one more thing.

Not to mention the fact that the reason he has a rental in the first place is because of a low back tire. Nothing like a damaged replacement to set you on edge.

We had a conversation, basically resetting and replanning our perfectly planned days, as I rinsed my hair, hurridly shaved my legs (no nicks, thankfully) and finally joined him outside to stare at the woebetide car.

Irony.

Isn't that they way it is. We plan and plan and try to be responsible, but sometimes there are simply outside forces are at work. So we center ourselves, eat breakfast (which we did before we made any other rash decisions), and try to focus on the next thing.

Even our solutions don't really work at times, and that's okay. Sometimes you just have to suck it up and revel in the irony.