Today was not my day.

It could have been. It should have been. It even was for a few short minutes. But when I somehow ripped the toilet paper holder off the cabinet in the guest bathroom as I was trying to change the roll, I should have known that today would not be my day.

I woke up at 4:30 am, which is not unusual for me, unfortunately. I turned on the Criminal Investigation channel and watched a couple of episodes of “Why I Ran” before dozing off again. But by 6:00 I was done sleeping. I took a shower, threw my hair into a messy ponytail bun thing (and when I say messy, I don’t mean Pinterest cute messy. I mean hot tranny mess messy) and dressed for the morning.

Today I took my credential exam to be a certified medical coder. The test is 2 hours long, and you have to go to a professional testing center where they do things like make you turn out all your pockets and take a scan of your palm vein every time you enter or exit the room. I wanted to be comfortable and be able to focus on how to sequence neoplasm codes instead of my jeans digging into my waist. So I donned some capri sweatpants and a purple t-shirt, like a champ. I went to Coffee Bean, because that’s where champs go, and did some last minute studying. But I was really anxious for my test and couldn’t study, so I decided to go shopping instead.

I went to Old Navy, and bought clothes for Melody’s 3 kids, because they are cute. At the last minute, I bought a green hoodie, because I thought it might be cold in the testing center. Although green and purple are complimentary colors, I probably wouldn’t suggest this combination of clothing. So now instead of a hot tranny mess, I looked like a hot clown tranny mess. But who cares? I’m just taking my test and going home. (I think I just switched tenses. Roll with it, folks.)

I get to the testing center, take my test, and pass. Wahoo!! I’m now credentialed as a Certified Coding Associate! This is what I’ve been working towards for the past 18 months. I’m happy. I do a fist pump in the hallway. I get in my car, pick up some Subway, and drive back to Aaron’s to eat lunch and change clothes.

BUT THEN.

About halfway to Aaron’s house, I hear a noise. But that noise couldn’t possibly be coming from my car, right? My car is shiny and new(ish) and has leather and heated seats and a hook in the trunk for my grocery bags. But as I drove on, I realized that the noise was, indeed, coming from my car.

You know that episode of Friends when Ross is playing the bagpipes and Phoebe is trying to sing along, and she squeaks out a painful rendition of Celebration by Kool and the Gang? Yep. That was the noise. And it was LOUD.

But I had to eat my sandwich. (“MY SANDWICH!” Ha! I worked in another Friends reference.) So I got back to Aaron’s ate my sandwich, and called the fine folks over at Firestone to see if they could fix my car. Sure, they said. Bring it on down.

Stupidly, I did not change my clothes. I figured I’d be down there for an hour or two, and might as well stay my comfortable clown hot tranny mess self. I was SUPPOSED to drive to San Diego to see Melody and give her children with clothing and celebrate my status of Medical Coder Extraordinaire, but first I had to do the responsible thing and get my car fixed.

After 3 hours of sitting at Firestone watching Divorce Court, they informed me that they could not fix my car, and I would have to take it to Volkswagen. Fiiiiiiiiine. I called Volkswagen. They close at 6. It is 5:15. Oh, but the mechanics go home at 5. So I can drop it off and leave it overnight. Mind you, my closest friend lives an hour away, and Aaron is in Seattle. So transportation is an issue.

Oh, and my iPhone was almost dead.

I get directions from palliative care iPhone and head off towards Volkswagen. It’s pouring, and there’s tons of traffic. So even though it’s only like 10 miles away, it takes me 35 minutes to get there. And that entire 35 minutes is accompanied with the soundtrack of bagpipe squeals and angry stares from other drivers. But then, I made it to the dealer! Or…did I? This can’t possibly be right. I’m in a super ghetto part of town, and there’s a Jack in the Box where the dealership should be. BLAST! MY IPHONE GAVE ME BAD DIRECTIONS!

I turn around, somehow figure out where to go, and screech (literally) into the VW service center at 5:55. I walk in the door, soaking wet and colorful, and the men smile at me. They know exactly what is wrong with the car. They can fix it first thing in the morning. Oh, you bought the extended warranty? Great, it should be covered. Except the warranty company isn’t open on the weekends, so you’ll have to pay for it out of pocket and then submit a claim to them to get reimbursed. And while you’re at it, maybe you should buy yourself some new clothes, because this outfit is not working for you.

I may have made up that last part.

Great, I say. So glad you can fix it. Now the problem is I’m from out of town, so I’m kind of stranded. I’m not sure how to back to where I’m staying.

Blank stares.

Um…well…I guess I can call a cab?

More blank stares.

Ok, so…I’m calling a cab to drive me 8 miles. Cool…

Thankfully, the manager came in at that moment and offered me a loaner car. Well, he offered me the loaner car after he told me that my car is drivable and I gave him a look that said “If you make me get back into the bagpipe car tonight I will cut you.”

So away I went, in my bronze VW Beetle. (Who wants a bronze car? I think that is pretty much last on my list of colors I want my car to be painted.) My iPhone had just enough life left in her to get me to Ralph’s to buy some champagne, and then I knew the way from there.

So, here I am. Still in my purple and green attire. Bronze Beetle in the garage. And it’s time to pop open the bubbly, because I need to celebrate the fact that I passed my test!

Oh, and Aaron? Something happened to the toilet paper holder. You’re gonna want to fix that.