Mood:  accident prone

So a few weeks ago, I was on my way home after feeding the owls when I remembered I needed to buy a Powerball ticket. Something that I do whenever it reaches a 3 digit jackpot…live a little, spend a buck.

I pulled into a Quickie Mart with a good lottery ‘vibe’ to it. I know, I’m a fucking hippie but whatever.

I realized - no cash! ARGH! And they don’t take cards of any kind for tickets—can’t be encouraging gambling outside of the numerous Indian casinos, but I digress.

I scrambled for change. Bottom of the purse? Check! Floor of car? Check! Console? Check! I rounded up a whole bunch of change out of the console. Brushed the fuzzies and snarg off of it.

I dashed into the store with a fistful of change. Me, the oh so dreaded unrolled coin customer. I apologized right off to the clerk because I am well aware that I am ‘that person’.

“I am so sorry about the change! Please don’t hate me!”

Clerk: “Too late, I already do.”

Erm. Wow. Feel the simmering USPS style rage hiding under jackass man.

He counted all 100 brazillian or so of dirty crusty coins and then grimaced and handed me my ticket. I bailed, oh so eager to make my escape.

Then Karma or just a rather unfortunate series of events unfolded.

I got in the car and started her up.

What is that hissing noise? Oh hey now! What is that smell?

OH NO GODAMMIT IT’S NOT! It’s the mother fucking air conditioner! Freon is leaking out! Oh figures! The fucking thing just went out of warranty! Of course! Mother fucking fucking car! Just a total crazy cat lady f-bomb ranty!

Sputtering, I flipped the air off, put all the windows down and headed for home seriously pissed off! I cannot believe this shit!

I tore down the road with clouds of fumes pouring out the windows.  I was seriously tearing up and coughing and that’s while hanging my head out the window like a dazed and slobbering Golden Retriever.

Oh no! I will not be poisoned by Freon!

I pulled into a parking lot, turned off the car and jumped out.

Hack. Cough. Wheeze. Gag. Cry. Repeat numerous times. My eyes were like fountains. OH MY GOD! I was in misery!

Then why was I still hear hissing? Where was it coming from? I ventured closer back towards the car. Wait a minute or un minuten biten if you’re German. The hissing seemed to be coming from the console.

I opened it and BAM! I realized the hissing noise was not my now out of warranty air conditioner leaking Freon. Oh no, it had to be pepper spray. Yes, pepper spray. You know, the pepper spray that’s been in the console for 3 long years awaiting my eventual carjacker who’ll I’ll later i.d. on an edition of Cops.

Well, on the bright side if I had used it on carjackers instead of myself, it actually would have worked. Would have.

But, I didn’t.

After turning my non-Freon leaking functioning air conditioner on to blow out the interior, I made my blurry and coughing way home. Where I immediately washed my face and then Googled ‘Pepper Spray” to see if I needed to go to the hospital as I was seriously wheezing, gagging and half blinded at that point.

According to what I believe I read on Google, if I was having ‘labored’ breathing then yes, I should go to the hospital and be treated with Oxygen. Hmmmm. Saturday night. Emergency room. $150 Co-pay. Endless wait. Screaming children. And what exactly is the definition of ‘labored’ anyway? Would taking really big breaths and holding them count as oxygen treatment? I thought so.

I decided that I was okay enough. A cold beer and a hot bath are pretty much always the miracle cure for me so I went with it.

14 hours later I felt almost normal. No burning eyes and just a little hard cough left.

And guess what? Guess how much I won on that lottery ticket that started it all?

You know it!

Zip. Zilch. Zero. Nada.

Yeah.