I had had a brutal day at work.  Let’s just start it there.  It was now 6 p.m. on an unremarkable and average Wednesday and I was sitting in the car trying desperately to pull my unruly, frizzy curls into something that would pass for a bun and keep the strands of death off my face and neck while I drove.  All the while trying to ignore the 32 degree heat and pretend that I was feeling the tiniest of breezes blowing across my soaking wet skin.  It probably did not help that my baby, my love, my car, and subsequently the most debt I have every month was black and seemed to call the heat from all around it like an old fashioned torture device.  So in the midst of all this I am waiting for my man to call me for our usual 6 o clock how was your day, I love you a...

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