Omen.

omen

Today is my father’s birthday. And I called him, but not to wish him well.

This morning started with a sharp, aching pain in my wrist (which has plagued me for nearly a month now, but was particularly hostile on this raining morning). After brief discussion over breakfast, Daniel and I decided that I should just man-up and pay to have it looked at by an orthopedist.

With the thought of potentially having to wear a cast in my bridal portraits and possibly even the wedding running through my worried mind, I climbed into the car to head to work. Daniel turned the engine, but the engine wouldn’t turn.

So, with a dead car battery we sit, staring at the dash and wondering what the next move is. I start texting anyone I know who might not be at work yet, to no avail. Then I text Matt Holmes (who’s jumped my car once before) to see if he won’t mind leaving the office to come jump our Kia. He obliges, luckily, with little to no hesitation.

So Daniel and I wander back into the house to await Matt’s arrival. I sit down at the table to attempt to email my boss, but for some reason my credentials are returning invalid. I nearly get it working when I hear Daniel call from the upstairs bathroom, “Hey, baaabe…”

Fumbling up the stairs, I attempt to log into my work email via phone with my bad wrist while bracing the handrail with my good one. I round the corner into our room, still glued to the screen, Moose tripping me from between my knees, and reply, “What’s up?”

“Our skylight is leaking.”

Surprisingly, neither of us are in a bad mood at all. We scurry into the attic through the terrifying exterior windowed door in our closet (who thought that was a good idea, besides maybe a demon, I don’t know) to attempt to look at the leak from the inside but can’t find it. We resolve ourselves to deal with it after the rain and I go to call my dad to ask about leaky skylights, with which he is well-versed.

We talk a few moments, he suggests I contact the home warranty folks and see if it’s covered (which, by the way, it’s not), and we bid farewell.

Matt Holmes arrives and Daniel navigates the car out of the garage in neutral. That’s when it hits me.

I call my dad back.

“Shit, Dad! Happy birthday!!”

We giggle a little at the fact that I’d called him on his birthday to NOT wish him happy birthday, and catch up a moment while Matt and Daniel jump the car in the rain. I’m standing there, water in my hair and on my coat, talking to my dad, and giggling.

These are the moments that make life so fantastic. I’m in a better mood today than I have been in quite awhile. I think I just needed a bit of shock to break me out of the wedding/work fog I’ve been in as of late. It doesn’t matter that I’ve burned my tongue on hot coffee or went on call this morning for the next week, because my life is awesome.

Turns out, the battery is fine and the tires on the car are fine. We got the oil changed for a mere 40 bucks and we’re back in business. Daniel was scouted by a photographer who’d like to use him a subject for some of his photos. There’s a teeny, tiny version of the Eiffel Tower on my desk.

Life is good.

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