So I leave work yesterday at 4pm, thinking that if Becca and Mom are going to take my car to New York, I'd go ahead and get the oil changed and tired rotated. As I drive in, I see that the place I'm going to is also doing a free brake inspection.
Brakes are fine. Tired are toast. They had 56,500 miles on them and no tread left. So I spend $300 to get new tires.
Go to Mom's, hang out with the new kitten Tripod (named because she has three grey tabby legs and one golden tabby leg) that she's fostering. Go home, start cleaning out my car.
Mom calls. She had just gotten off the phone with Becca, who decided (or badgered JR into doing it for her) to borrow her in-law's Taurus instead.
Today, I'm calling the doctor. I'm not coping. I need help.