What The Fudge

I'm having a perfect, "What the fudge," moment. We've been planning a trip to our hometown in Maryland for this upcoming week. We were going to leave on Saturday morning and spend the entire week in Maryland, coming home the next weekend. Then the hubster's SUV started having transmission problems. Short term solution (rather than doing the smart thing and staying home to get it fixed or to buy a new vehicle) is to take my poor aged minivan. At twelve years old, it's not my first choice for a 1500 mile round trip. Not to mention my AC doesn't run very cold anymore and I'm too cheap to pay the $200 to get it serviced again, because the last time I did it ended up costing me $950. And then there is the fact that the wiper transmission is going up on the van and the wiper blades are stuck in the upward position when not in use. Fine for the driver, but the passenger side has a wiper blade smack-dab in the middle of their vision.

(No, we aren't getting snow today. I'm just too lazy to go out and take a picture of it this morning. But you can see the wiper blades in this picture and can imagine how annoying it will be for the passenger on a long trip--aka me.)

This morning I turn on the weather channel and learn that tropical storm Andrea will be coming right up the Eastern seaboard just as get there. Did I mention my mother in law lives in a coastal town and that's where we'll be staying? Seriously, what the fudge? Is the Universe trying to tell us not to go? Every fiber in my body is screaming that it's a bad idea to go right now. I learned a long time ago to listen to my body's signs. The hubster hasn't--or won't--learn that lesson yet. He's hell bent on going this week, come hell, high water or tropical storm.