Last night, I was headed to a cooking class.
A class I have looked forward to for months.
Which means butter. Lots and lots of butter.
I love butter.
But when I went to get in my car?
It wouldn't start.
I panicked, called my husband and took his instead.
This morning, when the guy came to jump start my beloved minivan?
He found a fried rat in the engine.
Someone please come hold me.