Handcarts and motorcars...

My regular readers (that makes this sound very column-like! Where do I think I am, the Sunday newspaper??) will remember that several posts ago I had a couple of crappy days. One of such days activities included crashing our car. Well, what feels like an eternity ago, I put the car into the garage for general repairs. Upon handing over said vehicle, I believe it was on a Friday, I was informed that it would be ready "by the middle or the end of next week". "Oh!" said I, "so that would mean Wednesday?" "Well,"said he, "perhaps by Friday."
"Great!" thought I, "I can survive a week without the car, in fact it will do me good, walking to the supermarket, to church, to and from school with Ana each day, should speed my weight loss if nothing else."
Well, let's just say that said Friday came and went and here we are a whole two weeks later and I sit, with trepidation, in front of the phone wondering if I ring, what is the likelihood of the car being ready? I think I will open a poll!
I would also like to point out that in this second week of walking, I have actually gained two pounds (not a lot you may say) but it is indeed deeply demoralising and adds to my frustration and annoyance at these people for taking my car away for what is now two weeks.

So, to soothe my rattled cage, I say the following. To the early latter-day Saint pioneers who drove teams and wagons and pulled hand carts across the plains of America, I salute you. I pay humble tribute to the effort, determination and valiance of which you were in possession, and that I, in our society of plenty and ease, am ashamed to say that after two weeks, I have had enough and am ready to do a full shop at the supermarket and not have to carry it home.
How you must be, on the other side of the veil, looking at my feeble efforts and wondering what on earth I would have done in your situation. Here I sit on my side of the veil and think the exact same thing!
Here I struggle with losing weight because of abundance, in your time, any food was welcomed and often was not enough.
Here I wonder if I will ever think that I do a good enough job parenting my children and worry about having more in case I can't cope (which on days like today seems a definite possibility). In your time, the babies came and often died along the way and yet, you kept going.
Here I struggle to pack up the pushchair and get the children out of the door on time for school. There, the children helped to pack up and drive the wagons and carts and their education came through work and struggle as well as books.

Theirs was a path of toil and hardship and they followed it often giving all they had, even their lives, to reach "Zion".
Had I been there, I wonder if I wouldn't just have sat down on the side of the way and felt too sorry for myself to carry on and would thus have lost my way. Foregoing Zion for apathy.

The rant has extinguished my indignation.

Joy of joys, the car will be ready by 4pm this afternoon.
(Well, we'll just wait and see! All I can say is that I hope that the valet that has taken (allegedly) since Tuesday evening is the best valet ever (including under the child seats) and that the work done is of a quality one would expect for two weeks effort! Couldn't you build a car from scratch in that time???)