If anybody else tells me the story of how "my first baby arrived 3 weeks (or 2 weeks, or whatever) early," I'm going to throttle them. Or their horrible birth stories. Or the terrible baby related thing they saw on TV last night. What compels people to share these stories with pregnant women? They should know better than to terrorize a woman who has piles of raging hormones coursing through her veins, not to mention a very protective husband in the background. Silly silly people, you're going to get hurt!
Today we took our wee Sunfire in to have her tire fixed. A simple flat tire, should be no more than a $20.00 patch job, somehow manages to turn into $420.00. I feel like every time I bring my car in for service, however minor it may be, I should just come in with about $500 in cash and throw it at them, and tell them to take what they need. You're due for a brake inspection (and we were, I'll admit that) Well, it comes "free" with a tire rotation, you should get that done. The back brakes need to be cleaned. The front brakes need new pads. Joey the mechanic, well his kids need braces! Sure, we have one of those money trees growing in our back yard, no problem!
The kicker was the speedometer (the thing that tells Steve if he's doing 20, 30, or 40 kms over the speed limit) and the odometer weren't working this morning, and the car was having a hard time shifting gears. Greg The Service Guy ensured us that this was likely a result of the spare tire being on. He calls me at 4:00 this afternoon to inform me that the wire that connects the whoozijig to the whatsitsnut is actually the cause. Something has eaten it.
"Eaten it?" I say.
"As in, literally, pulled up to it, slathered on some condiments, and chowed down on it?"
"Yup" says Greg.
Happens all the time apparently. People have critters building nests, making homes, living inside their engines, and feasting on all their foreign car parts. Not in our car! Anything that wants to live in our car or start eating my whoozijig wires is going to have to pay rent, or get a fricking job! They owe us at least $75 bucks for the wires, and some back rent too!
Oh, and something fell off the lawnmower the other night, and now it wont cut. Fricking vermins. They're probably eating the lawnmower too.
Ah, life in the country! Aint it Grand!!