The Vacation That Wasn't

My dad told me the story of the first vacation that he and mom tried to take after I was born. My gramma came over to babysit me, but Mom n' Dad didn't even make it out of the driveway before a water line broke in the yard. The car was packed and ready to go, and a geyser of water was spraying up out of the front lawn.

This kind of genetics I can do without.

I was supposed to be on vacation this week, you see. My wife and I had everything packed and ready to go two days in advance, we were so excited.

About three weeks ago, we had relatively minor but unexpected repairs on my car.

Two weeks ago, we had relatively minor but unexpected repairs on my wife's car.

Last week, our dishwasher died and had to be replaced.

A few days after that, one of our garage door openers died and had to be replaced.

And finally, Friday evening, the nerve under one of my lower left molars died and is going to have to be dealt with.

That's right. I was going to get a vacation this week. Instead, I get a root canal.

I wonder how Dad's *second* real vacation went.