People say bad things come in threes. This, I might believe based on our week: a. I am sick b. Phoebe is sick and c. our car is sick.
She and I picked up a cold and while we’re both nearly over it, there is still “liquid” to contend with. Mine is a runny nose, Phoebe’s is a nasty cough. The toughest part is actually the cough that wakes her up at night, every one to two hours, which means I am up at night, every one to two hours. But we’re on the mend.
The Mercedes is a different story. And to make it short, we’ve got water in the electrical system. Three days of visits to the garage have resulted in this diagnosis. I think. But our issue, as always, is the language. Paul and I are getting better at Italian but we don’t really speak car Italian. It’s charming when the mechanic’s face lights up as Phoebe enters the garage but frustrating (for both of us) when he tries to explain the details of what’s gone wrong and what to do next. Armed with my cell phone and half a dozen friends willing to act as interpreter-on-call, we’re getting closer to a solution. Hopefully tomorrow we’ll take the car to the dealership and have it fixed…while we’re away in Belgium.