Last night had promised to be a nice, easy evening in the Brown house. We had things going on all week in the evenings (optometrist appointments, church meeting, fantasy football draft), but Thursday evening had promised to be free and clear of any outside activities. Willis and I had emailed back and forth with each other during the day. I had made mention that I was glad he took the Pacifica to work since it never stopped snowing all day. He mentioned that if he would have trouble getting home by 6 p.m., he'd give me a call.
At 5:07 p.m., the phone rang, and it was Willis. He told me that he locked the keys in the Pacifica while it was running.
I thought quickly, and I remembered that I have a AAA membership. I called AAA to see if they'd send someone to help him. It turned out, Willis isn't on the membership. So, they couldn't. They did offer to send someone on a "cash call."
I said, "No thanks," because not only would I probably beat the "cash call" to Willis, we'd still like to have a window and a door on the car, you know, for sentimental reasons.
My neighbor, Pam, was home, and I called her after I talked to AAA. She suggested trying to unlock the car over the phone (having Willis hold his phone up near the car and me hitting the unlock button with my key). We tried it several times, and it didn't do anything. (I saw on Snopes.com that it's an urban legend, but I was willing to try it—just for kicks!)
So, once we had exhausted just about every single option we thought we had, I ran the kids over to the Bergrens (I thank God for those people every day), and I drove the Chevy in the lake-effect blast to Portage to go get Willis. I don't think I got above 40 miles per hour all the way there, and about four times, I got passed on the right by semis when I was fairly certain I was as far over as I could possibly be (and still be on the road). I watched several cars and semis zip past me at 50-60 miles per hour, and then I'd see them again later—jackknifed or just off the road. (I must've seen four cars/semis do this—and I recognized them when I passed them after they had gone off the road.)
At one point, I got behind a person who was going 20 miles per hour. Sure, I was willing to go a little faster than 20 (say, maybe 25-30 miles per hour), but I wasn't willing to pass the person (I didn't want to risk getting slammed since there were only two "real" lanes on 94, and those in the left lane were driving like nutters). So, I had planned on camping out behind the person at a safe distance. Strangely enough, the person obviously had a problem with that, and he/she slammed on his/her brakes several times. Finally, the person turned on his/her turn signal to the left—obviously suggesting that I kindly remove myself from behind him/her. That bothered me a bit. I wasn't tailgating. I wasn't trying to run him/her off the road. I was just camping out behind the person because I wasn't willing to risk this person's life and mine to pass him/her. I don't know what bothered me more: the lunatics that were going over 50 miles per hour, or that person: going slower than slow and being intolerant of other people wanting to do the same—survive, and safely so.
I got to Portage at about 7:20 p.m., and Willis and I rode back home together in the Pacifica. We got back home at about 8:30 p.m., and we went to the Bergrens to pick up the kids. Pam and Bill said that the kids were really good (although, Henry screamed for awhile, wouldn't take a bottle, and eventually fell asleep—so sad, but I expected it. If he had been with me, he'd have just been screaming in the car and in total danger).
As Willis and I were carrying Nora and Henry back to our house, I misjudged the last step down at the Bergrens and rolled my ankle. Hard. I heard a snap, and I about threw up, actually.
I propped it up (with Willi's help), and he brought me some ice. I iced it for a good 15-20 minutes, and then Willi helped me get to bed (after he brought me some food, water, and ibuprofen). Today, I can put my weight on it, but it's still a tad iffy. I don't think it's broken. I just have a huge outer ankle today, and I have to be careful of how I move on it (no twisting, pivoting, etc.). It's harder to go downstairs than up, and I've still managed to carry both kids around today and do a load of diaper laundry. So, I'll be okay. I'm just moving slower than normal, that's alll.
We're supposed to get 10-20 more inches of snow between 11 a.m. today and 6 p.m. tomorrow.
Luckily, I don't think Willi will be locking his keys in the car anytime between now and 6 p.m. tomorrow. What stinks, though, is he has to work on Saturday, and I'm not entirely sure how easy that drive is going to be for him.
Good times! Dilly out.