It’s the LUSH products
“You know, I don’t know what it is, but women really seem to love the sunroofs.”
“Well, I never really cared about it. The car just happens to have one, so…”
I’m talking to my car salesman (best car-buying experience EVER, by the way) while waiting for J to get something, possibly the insurance card, from his car before we officially finish the deal.
“My wife was the same way, but I’m telling you, she loves it. Now, if I’m driving, she doesn’t want the sunroof open, but if she’s driving, she wants it down. I figured it out, too, and she confirmed it. If I’m driving her car somewhere, it means we’re going somewhere nice and she doesn’t want her hair to get messed up. If she’s driving, she doesn’t care about it, because it doesn’t matter.”
“Yup, that’s exactly right. I had to make sure I had a hair band in my purse before we opened it on the test drive.”
He starts laughing, “See? What did I tell you?” I like this guy, I do. I’m usually not good at talking to people when I’m left on my own, but he’s nice and easy to talk to.
“Well, and my hair is, like, 3 feet long, so it’s really a big problem if it gets wind-blown.”
“Oh yes, and it looks very soft, too.”
Um, I’m not entirely sure how that is relevant, but thank you?
Oh, and he was totally right, too. I can’t seem to get the car to back out of the driveway at work without the sunroof open first. Huh. Who would have known?
Going down
I might be completely down for awhile as I install a new version of wordpress. Cross your fingers for success!
Update: The installation went well, though I didn’t find a new theme to love. I’m much too picky about that, which is why I really need to learn how to code. Blegh. Some great news, though! My RSS feed finally works. Woo!
Changes, changes, again
I’m thinking about changing up my website, getting a new theme. I’m tired of the margins. Whenever I write a long post, it takes so long to scroll through it that I become unmotivated to write another. I have purposely not written at least a handful of articles (including, yes, the story of my new-to-me car) because they get too long to post in the current format. There’s only so much scrolling that I can handle.
So tomorrow I’m off work, and I’m going to be messing around with the site, switching out themes a few times and trying to come up with something I like. And then, with enough room to write a good story and enough width to post some pictures, I will be back in business. I’m sick of the short nothing posts.
I can’t get Alan Jackson to stop playing in my head
The quest is over! Pictures and details coming soon!
(I’m so excited!)
(!!!)
Still no car
And yet, shockingly, the hair on my head is still intact. My fingernails have not fared so well.
Cars
Car shopping is exhausting. I think that’s a given fact. Car shopping is especially exhausting when you’re trying to stick to a tiny budget and semi-ridiculous standards.
I think I may have found the car online tonight. Everything looks good so far, and I’m sending J to go look at it tomorrow. If it’s great, I told him to just go buy it. That’s how sick I am of the whole process. Plus, I always wanted to be surprised with a new car in the driveway. It’s 10 years later than I thought it would happen, but maybe there’s hope for me yet. I have a history of despising surprises, but if I did all the research and pretty much made the decision myself, it would probably make it a bit more palatable.
Am fighting the urge to curl in a ball
Preferably, I would be curling in a ball in a small, dark hole. Or the back of my closet, which is currently inaccessible due to the large pile of crap that has gradually amassed.
The short version of things? Took my car in yesterday for an oil change, and the mechanic got up into my computer system (J asked him to, so I can’t be entirely mad about it yet). He wanted to charge me hundreds to “fix” it. Mind you, this is for the same problem that has been “fixed” by half a dozen repairmen over the past 5 years. Yeah, I’m not buying it. Just change my oil, charge me for the labor you spent to look at it, and I’ll be on my way.
Fast forward to this morning, when I leave for work. My speedometer no longer works, and my car won’t shift out of first gear. Nice. Really nice. I do some research and find a case exactly like mine, and it’s simply an issue with the speedometer cables not being properly attached back after they got to the computer system area. Fine. They screwed up and forgot to do something properly yesterday, so I feel like they should fix it on their own dime. So J calls and tells them about it, and they blow him off, saying that the computer wiring system is broken, and if he wants to pay for it, they can tow it in and replace all the crap that they wanted to replace yesterday. Otherwise, we’re out of luck.
I’m so damn furious over the whole thing, I’m ready to explode. I’m not the type to ever go off on anybody (except family, of course…because that seems to be the way we’re designed), but it’s building. I’m LIVID over this. Part of me wants to storm over there and start screaming. The other part wants to hide in a hole. Oh, lord, help me through this.
Lump
I just want to go to bed. It’s been a really long, frustrating day, and I’m having to force myself to stay awake. I don’t even feel like going for a walk tonight. Just…so…tired.
I had a huge panic attack this afternoon. It was not pretty. I would never wish one of those on anyone, not even my worst enemies. It’s been a few years since I’ve had one this bad.
Pretend that I wrote something clever today. You know, like the good old days.
Crisis averted, yet again
Is it allergy season? Something? My eyes have been dry and itchy all day. And, of course, when I switched to a different purse, I didn’t transfer my eye drops. Arrrg!
My car started acting up this morning, in a serious way. After a stop light about 10 minutes away from work, it suddenly started shuttering and making a horrible noise, and the acceleration was really slow to pick up. “Oh god, don’t let my car explode,” I begged. It was really scary. And then the Service Engine Soon light, which is always on anyway, started to blink furiously.
I threw all my random crap into one bag, so that if my car did suddenly burst into flames, I could exit in a hurry. I was trying not to completely freak out, and I was determined to keep on driving, even though my thoughts were screaming at me not to. I got in the next turn lane, waited for the light, and turned to get on the next highway. Again, my car struggled to get going. I prayed that I wouldn’t cause an accident with my slow speed. I eventually got it up to speed just in time to exit. I had six stop signs between the exit and work, and I just knew that one of them would push my car over the edge. And that funny smell…was that my car, my imagination, or just something I happened to drive through? Breathe. Just breathe. Okay, maybe roll down the window and breathe. That’s better.
Once I was on the service road, I called J, trying to keep my voice calm. In very shaky words, I told him what was going on. He was, of course, very worried, but I told him I would call him as soon as I got to work. Just yesterday, I was bragging about how much I loved my car for the simple fact that it was entirely paid for. Now this?
I finally did make it to work, after a few rolling stops in the traffic-free neighborhood. I parked outside the gate and called J as I was walking down the driveway. He told me to wait for my car to cool off, and then go check all my fluids. I told him I’d keep him updated.
I went inside and told Female Boss what was going on, and that I would not be driving Thomas to swimming lessons in my car today. She said that she could come pick us up, and we crossed our fingers that it would be something simple, like something with the oil. She left, and I waited for Thomas to wake up. We ate breakfast and he went outside with me to help “fix” my car. Sure enough, the oil was low. Loooow. Not even close to being inside the boundaries. Damn it! I know better. Checking my oil was one of the only car-related things that my dad ever taught me, and I enjoy doing it. Why had I not done it lately?
I called J, and he told me to buy 2 quarts. I got my manual to see what kind I needed, and when my boss picked us up, I asked if she could take me to Wal-Mart after work. Of course she agreed, as I knew she would. My bosses always take care of me (and my car), without even a question. So that was the plan.
After work, we loaded up and went to the store. My boss told me that she was completely willing to follow me home, to make sure I was okay. I told her I didn’t need her to do that, but she said, “Well, let’s wait and see how it acts when you start it up, and then we’ll decide.” We bought the oil and a funnel, and went back home. She called Male Boss and told him to get home and help me. He did.
He poured in one quart of oil (with no funnel, so now that’s Thomas’ new sandbox toy) and wanted to let the engine run for a minute before checking to see if it needed more. As soon as he had me start it up, he exclaimed, “Well, that’s your problem! You see that shaking right there?” I did. “Your spark plug wire is almost disconnected. Go turn the car off.”
He completely undoes the wire, fiddles with it for a minute, connects it again, and tells me to fire it up. My car roars to life, sounding just like its old self again. No funny noise, no shaking, no shuttering, no signs of wires going nuts. We turn it off again, finish filling up the oil, and I’m on my way.
My car drives just as well, if not better, than it ever did. And yet again, I feel tremendously grateful that I work for such wonderful, wonderful people. Oh, and grateful that I don’t have to buy a new car, of course. That’s always great news.
I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it, but my car has had very serious problems at least 9 times that I can think of. It’s been an almost constant headache for me, in and out of the shop more times than I’ve been to the doctor. It’s a hideous color, 11 years old, and drives like a go-kart. It has 112,000 miles, chipped clearcoat, disintegrating rubber around the windows, and the Service Engine Soon light hasn’t turned off in years, despite the problem being “fixed” over and over by multiple mechanics and dealerships. Despite all this, I love my car.
I bought my car when I was 19, with my own money. I paid it off completely, by myself, in two years. My car gets me to and from work, which is all that I need it to do. My car gets 28 miles per gallon. Did I mention that it is completely paid for? For all of these reasons, I love my crappy old car, and plan on keeping it for as long as I possibly can.
