Nail, tire, rain

I have a nail in my tire. I found out coming home from Columbia, a little more than a hour's drive. A friend following me out of the parking garage called me on my cell to tell me my tire looked low, so I stopped at the next big gas station to check the tire, which was practically flat as a board.

You can picture it, I'm sure: the pouring rain. the vain attempts to use the umbrella. how you can't screw that little cap off because everything in the universe is soaking wet. how finally I used a babywipe to get some traction on it to unscrew it. the stupid long skirt that's so much fun to walk in but that can't be held up out of the torrential flood puddle. then! the broken nozzle on the air machine! the last two quarters! driving to the gas station across the street! having abandoned the impractical soaking sandals long ago, marching into the gas station barefoot for change (ewww). finally, praise all that is holy in the universe, a working air machine. driving home in cold wet clothes feeling all tragic in the air conditioning, which it's too hot to turn off.

Guess I need to get that fixed.