Thank God

I am thankful for the "just right" amount of ingredients I found in the cupboards for comfort cookies. When at first i didn't find butter, I panicked, but then resorted to shortening and the addition of oatmeal. If I hadn't found all that I needed, I would have surely sunken into my learning-to-drive-stick-shift-in-my-new-beautiful-sparkly-car-that-soon-made-me-realize-that-i-may-never-get-the-hang-of-it-and-will-have-to-let-my-car-collect-dust-in-the-garage misery. Thank God for homemade cookies, really, thank God.
My mom took me out into a relatively quiet business park for my training. Right away, I drove into a dead-end and had to reverse, which is like 10X harder with manual transmission. However! Pretty soon I was zippin' around the parking lot until my mom said some very nerve-wracking words: "Alright, now take it into the street" Oh, shiite Muslim. I lurched onto the open road and shifted to the wrong gears, lurched, and stalled. Clicking the key, I restarted and lurched forward, sending us screeching up the hill as my mom nervously instructed me to shift gears. Then, there was this one stop sign. One very evil stop sign. Every single time I stopped at this red demon, I couldn't get myself back into driving mode. EVERY TIME. I stalled and lurched and had to restart. I was sent spiraling as someone pulled up behind me and watched the embarrassing sight that was me trying to kick my ass into gear.
I cried. I freaking cried. I cried until I was sobbing. I begged the car to please just grow some wings and fly away home. I cursed the car and threatened her with a trade-in. A TRADE-IN! (Sorry, "Coo". that's her name..kinda) So my mom sternly yelled at me to "Stop crying! I can't believe you're crying right now!" and I cried harder because, naturally, that's what you're supposed to do when someone is telling you to stop. Girl thing? Anyways, I adamantly told her that I was finished and to switch seats with me and take this hunk-a metal home. She made me try five more times and I still didn't get it, thus, creating the awkward, quiet, and angry drive home. So again, thank God for cookies, just, thank God.