The One With the Oil Change

Have you ever had one of those moments when your mind is just static? Like the sound of a dead radio station or the feeling your legs get when you've been sitting on them too long and try to stand up. In my teen years I got those moments quite frequently and have quite a few embarrassing stories to prove it. But, I've grown up since then. I have become poised and calm. I rise to each occasion and shine like the morning star. Okay, that may be a bit of a stretch. Sometimes I am painfully reminded of just how blonde I still am. 

So, becoming an adult means you have to do adult things. Things like grocery shopping and booking your own doctor's appointments and the dreaded TAKING YOUR CAR TO BE SERVICED. 

That last one had to be done to my car for quite a while and I finally bit the bullet and took it downtown to a place I have frequently passed. The men were very friendly and guided me to the correct spot to park the car and I airily tossed my hair and thought loftily of how great my stick shifting skills were and how impressive it must be. It was one of those servicing places where they change the oil and do various things under the hood as you sit in your vehicle. 

Things were going along, smooth as oil, until the mechanic came to the window and told me he was going to check over everything and make sure there weren't any major problems. He asked me to flash my brights. Sure. Happy to. My pleasure. Anyone who can drive a stick shift can certainly do simple task like that.
I reached up.
I froze.

......................

I COULDN'T REMEMBER WHERE MY BRIGHTS WERE. 

No.

I finally just made a mad guess and the windshield wipers started going! 

Blush.

I tried to pretend like I bumped it, as my brain registered where the brights were located.
There they were. Triumph. That put an end to that ordeal.
The windshield wipers continued to sweep.

Then he asked me to turn my left turn signal on.

......................
Blank.
Nothing.

I COULDN'T REMEMBER HOW TO TURN MY TURN SIGNAL ON.

I blame this on me being left handed. I was sitting there try to remember which hand I normally use to signal a turn. The pause got too long. My mind raced. I tried to start from the beginning. I'm left handed. Does that mean I use my right hand for the turn signal? I made another wild move.
The wind shield wipers went completely berserk.
  Backandforthbackandforthbackandforth.
Much, much faster than my brain. 

Turning the signal on, I muttered something about it being a fairly new car to me and I still wasn't used it. That isn't entirely true and even if it was, the signals are in the same spot on basically any car. 

I paid my bill and left as quickly as possible. This was not one of my proudest moments. I think I don't want to be an adult anymore. Possibly I shouldn't be ALLOWED to be an adult.