Thursday, June 18, 2009

Summer days and vague threats aimed at my car

Summer break started almost a week ago, and I've been the queen of the un-motivated since then. Part of it is that I tend to have bouts of insomnia due to stress, which has left me in bed until 11 or later. I was up and at 'em by 9:30 at the latest this quarter, every single day, so I guess I'm making up for lost time?

I've been trying to figure out what I'm going to do this summer, what things I'm going to do to fill the hours that I'm not at work or doing anything else that would amount to much of anything. I'm hoping to learn to sew, to volunteer and to read all of the books that I've had to set aside and give up on this past year. But right now, I just want to cocoon myself in bed and dream all the hours away, because I'm just special that way. 

By the end of this week, the biggest thing I'll have managed will be helping my dad replace my spark plugs and wires, because my car has decided that it needs me to hate it a little bit. 

As you might remember, I had to replace the head gasket in March after finding out that it was slowly falling apart and would likely EXPLODE and DESTROY THE EARTH if I didn't get it replaced. Okay, my mechanic didn't use those words exactly, but the implied outcome was that I'd be all dead and corpseified, a look that I imagine wasn't THAT popular on the Spring runways.

Then, at the very end of April, I performed the Worst Parking Job Ever and destroyed my front right tire. Because life isn't fun unless the Wal-Mart employees are marveling at your exploded tire and asking your dad where the car is and whether this is something his kid manages to do regularly. Teach me to run late for work.

Oh! And in May, wonderful, glorious, I hated it so much that I contemplated moving to another country where they use a different calendar system May, I guess something in the undercarriage needed welded back into place. I'm not clear on what it was, exactly, because I wasn't home much that week for various reasons, and Dad went ahead and got it fixed because it sounded really, really bad. I know it rattled.

So, we come in on June, and I'm in the post-finals haze, wondering how, exactly, I got through the past 11 weeks, when my car refuses to climb a hill or start on the first try. Or  the second. Or the third. THEN it'd start and I'd give it a firm lecture on behavior and how if it doesn't clean up its act, I'm going to... and then I'd run out of steam because nothing I could say was quite threatening enough. "I'm going to sell you to the scrap man" only works if you have the cash to buy the next car.

After a few days of The Car Acting Stupid, Act IV, it all magically cleared up. Well, except for the hills thing, it's still having some issues with those. Dad has declared that it must be a plugs/wires issue, given that it cleared up once it dried out (we had the rain of cats and dogs last week). So, I went to the auto shop yesterday and bought all the nifty things that I need to make my car run like an effing normal car. I made the error of wearing girly clothes (wedges and one of those elastic top dresses), and clearly didn't know much about my car, so the guy who worked there gently asked if my dad was going to put them in for me.

Maybe I should learn the ins-and-outs of my car this summer. 

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