Ryan and I were both in the driveway this morning getting ready to leave. I had gotten Charlie settled into his seat and was about to back out when Ryan started waving at me frantically from his car. He got out of his car (because his windows don't roll down) and told me it wouldn't start and asked if I would wait a few minutes while he
Chipper non-psycho pregnant lady attitude: INTACT.
Ryan even gave me a buck for the toll road to save me some time on the way back. Which was really generous considering how I said to him, "You know, instead of replacing your battery, you could just drive my car. And then we could buy a nice little family car for me to drive. We could probably get like $200 for your car even though it won't start!"
At daycare Charlie was happily playing with his friends when I stopped at the refrigerator to drop off his afternoon bottle of milk. I pulled the bottle out of my purse to discover that it was HALF FULL. Which meant the other half, four ounces of whole milk, had pooled in the bottom of my purse. I frantically pulled my dripping wet iPod out of the bag and gave it CPR. I dabbed at it with paper towels and held my breath as I turned it on. Much to my relief, it turned on without any trouble.
Bullet dodged: Chipper attitude INTACT.
Next I stopped at a restaurant to get some breakfast and send some sections of my dissertation to my advisor before my doctor's appointment. I carefully set up my laptop on the table and while I was waiting for it to boot up I pulled my iPod out of my computer bag and pushed the button. Nothing. Deep breaths. Pushed the button. Nothing. It's completely dead. All my friends? Johnny Cash, Simon and Garfunkel, Queen, Joss Stone, Ben Harper, the Ben Folds, the Beatles, even John Denver? Are GONE. If there was ever a time to cry over spilled milk, this was it.
I emailed Ryan: "Charlie's milk spilled in my bag. iPod is dead."
He replied: "Try not to stress about it, we'll replace it if we need to."
I replied: "You can't see me but I'm making out with the computer."
While I was replying my phone rang. It was Ryan, probably calling to make sure I wasn't hyperventilating too much, or about to eat my weight in Pain Chocolate as a coping mechanism. I answered. Aaaaaannnnnd? Nothing.
I emailed again: "Guess my phone doesn't work either!" I deleted the part about how really %#@$ing awesome this turn of events was because it was his work email and he's all professional and stuff.
He replied: "Eh, it was time for you to get a new phone anyway."
All of this after I had teased him about his beloved car! And the dead car wasn't even his fault like the milk flood was probably mine (or maybe we should stop buying bottles at yard sales). HOW AWESOME IS HE?!
Anyway, the doctor's appointment went well. Bravo is doing great. I've only gained four pounds (Pain Chocolate notwithstanding). My phone dried out and started working again. And I found a cute replacement purse for $20 at TJ Maxx on the way home. Maybe my iPod will magically spin to life later on! Or maybe I will figure out what is wrong with my data and be able to finish my analysis.
Upbeat attitude? Tenuous but present.
Update: On advice of Professor Art Nerd, iPod is in a container of couscous, which is the closest thing I have to rice. If it doesn't work I can always toss the iPod with some halved grape tomatoes, olive oil, and parmesean cheese for a nice side dish.