Watch out, it's a long, frustrating story...

The curtains rise, and here's the scene.

It was last Saturday, and it was snowing. This always seems to happen when we go visit my sister in East Salt Lake. She always comes to go skiing for Spring Break, and we go and see her and her family at the cabin they stay in. And for some reason, it's always a blizzard.

Brandon and I decided to take two cars cuz he had a youth activity that night, and in case I wanted to stay longer and visit, I could. Here's the snag- the Mazda's front cars are bald. I mean, BALD. They couldn't get a haircut if they wanted to. So, it's not too bad on the way up, he only skidded a little, and we have to park at the bottom of the mountain anyway and Bec has to pick us up because neither of our cars (the mazda or the camry) is 4 wheel drive.

We go, we visit, and it was fun, as usual. Come 5 o'clock, we both decide to go home, because I don't want to make Bec drive us both down the mountain separately, and because the kids are tired anyway.

It has snowed the whole time we've been at the cabin, and the roads are worse. Brandon makes it maybe a mile and skids into the median (no harm done, just scary). We decide to have him pull over at the nearest residential area, he'll drive home with me, and we'll pick up the car hopefully the next day. We park it on the road next to a house that looks vacant and has a for sale sign up. No harm done.

The next day is Sunday, and if you've ever been married to a bishop, you know Sunday's aren't exactly laid back. He wasn't fully done with bishop duties til 9:30pm, and it would take 1 1/2 hours to get there and back. So we decide to just get the car on Tuesday morning. I was planning on visiting at the cabin all day that day anyway, and this way I'll just take Brandon with me, he can drive the mazda back home, and I'll continue up to the cabin. Got it? Great.

Only, the car isn't where we left it. Nope. NOT A TRACE. There's no broken glass, so we don't think it was stolen. I knock on the door of the house that apparently isn't vacant (there's a car there this time), and they tell me the car has been towed by the police. Their neighbor across the street called it in.

Apparently, we parked the car across the street from the most paranoid, crabby old lady on the PLANET.

She called it in as abandoned on Sunday night, and they towed it Monday night. On any other street in the WORLD, this would not have happened.

We call the police, they transfer us to a different station, who transfers us, who transfers us, who finally tell us the address of the tow place. On the way to said tow place, I proceed to explain to the officer what exactly had happened.

"So, officer, we were doing the SAFE thing. We shouldn't have to pay the towing fee, right?"

"Let me call you back."

Meanwhile, it's another 15 minutes to the tow place, we've been in the car an hour now, Brandon has to get to work, and my kids are in the back seat. "Where are we going, Mommy?" "Why are we turning around, Mommy?"

Officer calls me back. "Sorry Ma'am, but the records show they tried to contact you."

"No one contacted us."

"The notes say they attempted to contact you."

"You think we would have left the car there if we knew it would get towed?"

"Sorry, but the law states that a car is considered stolen or abandoned if it's been on the road more than 24 hours."

"The car's alarm was on it. The ALARM. You know, the thing that keeps burglars out? It was ON. You think someone stole the car and then put the alarm on it?"

"Sorry, but the towing company has to be paid by someone."

"And that person has to be me? Even though we did the safe thing?"

"Yes."

"Good to know. Next time we'll cause an accident instead of parking the car and then we won't have to pay a TOWING FEE." (Okay, so I didn't say that, but I REALLY wanted to.)

We've gotten to the tow yard, who tells us we have to get the case settled by the DMV before they can give us the car. The DMV is again, 10 miles the opposite direction, and it will be $200 when we get back. Awesome.

My kids are sick of being in the car, I'm bawling my eyes out at this point because I'm so frustrated, and we go to the DMV. The DMV has to create the record while we're there because no one has bothered to put it in the 'system' yet.

Then we drive back to the tow yard, pay the stinking $200, and 2 1/2 hours later, we have our car back.

So, I did what every sane, non-Christlike woman does. I go back to the crazy lady's house. I knock on the door. I tell her our story. Very calmly, might I add. She, like the crabby, mean, crazy old lady that she is, waves me off and tells me it's illegal to park on the street. I say, "All I'm asking is to wait ONE WEEK to call the police. Not ONE DAY." And she shuts her door in my face. So I honk my horn while I pull away. I pulled away nice and slow. For a looooong time.

Yes, I feel bad for the horn thing, but only a little.

I did learn a few things from this experience. One, I have the perfect husband. He didn't get mad or take it out on me, he just rolled with the punches like he always does. SOMEONE needs to do it. I was in the passenger seat LOSING it the whole time, so you can't expect it from me.

This week we finally got our rebate from Sprint, which just happened to be $200. Even though we were expecting that money to come back, it was nice to think it cancelled out the damage done by the tow fee. Coincidence? I think not. Even though I'm less than Christlike, the Lord still feels my pain and frustration and shows me he cares.

And Lexi is extremely compassionate. The whole time I'm losing it in the car, she's in the backseat saying, "It's going to be okay Mommy. It's okay Mommy. We're okay, Mommy." Such a sweetie.

If you're still reading, just know this: NEVER park your car in Cottonwood Heights. You never know if the crazy lady across the street will call it in.