Welcome to February. Welcome to Black History Month. Welcome to another month of trying to write daily.
You know, even though it’s been 10 days, there still hasn’t been all that much to write to you about. A lady on the news said that you should tune up your furnace like you tune up your car….about once every three years. Every. Three. Years. I think she must kill a lot of cars.
Is it cold where you are? Really cold? Record breaking cold? 25 below overnight cold? It’s chilly here.
Speaking of this cold, does your car act up in the cold? Or is it just mine because it’s almost as old as my child? I always have the radio loud. Know why? Because then I can’t hear that sad, sad mouse in my steering wheel when I turn left or that clanky clanky sound in the front right that’s probably another freaking CV gone south but I don’t want to think about it. It only has to last until the weather breaks because then I can ride my bike to work and then if all goes as planned, I can buy a new (brand-new, not used, only test-driven, not eaten in, not smoked in, mine all mine) car. Hello Subaru and your all-wheel drive.
In my writing attempts, my next big goal is to write a book. One of those laying by the pool reads that won’t require all of your attention but will secretly garner it anyway. I have the first few chapters and some middle stuff but no end. Please feel free to prod me about getting it finished at random intervals.
Well, the house smells like chili so I think I’ll go eat it.
The last few days have been, well, somewhat ridiculous. Let's see….
- Friday – hey, it's the start of the weekend, woo hoo, let's go! Except my car won't start. Get a jump (because it's always the battery no matter what's REALLY wrong) and head home. On the way home, car stalls out. Won't turn over. Yikes! Fortunately, I'm going downhill and have a stick shift and grew up with all boys and know how to pop the clutch. Got it home.
- Saturday – well, it's still the weekend. Let's run some errands and get some battery terminal cleaner to fix up the Scoot Mobile. Get the bikes tuned up and ready for the week in the Keys. And, oh delicious fatness, the chicken wing cook-off.
- Sunday – finish up some homework, lay around contemplating what to do. Do nothing.
- Monday – back to the grind. Everything seems normal. The Scoot Mobile hiccups one time but gets home with no other problems. One of my houseplants died. The horror!
- Tuesday – hey, the Scoot Mobile needs gas so leave the house early to stop at the gas station. Throw in $20 worth and hop back in to find that….IT WON'T START! Luckily the gas station is only about 3 blocks from the house so back to the house I hoof in heels. Poor Lovey. He came over to the station to give me a jump, but alas, there was no jumping to be had. In the end, he pushed me home with his truck.
- Tuesday (cont) – gotta fix it, gotta fix it, gotta fix it. The Scoot Mobile is an old girl but it's kind of like dog years. She's old for, maybe a Chevy, but for a Honda, 14 years is a spring chicken. Lucked out in that the place by the house could see her and did and quickly and best of all, for under $200 fixed her up. Not only did they fix the problem (bad ignition switch) but they also tightened up everything so it feels like I'm driving a new car! They rock. They get to fix Scoot from now on.
- Wednesday – hey, that's today! It's quiet, thankfully. Me and Scoot came to work with no problems. We just found out that we get to leave at 1 tomorrow (although coming in at 7:30 makes this not as great) and a romantic weekend with Lovey is a mere 30 hours away. I'm loving life at the moment. Oh yeah, kinda funny that MommaShyner is now playing the Plurk game too. She's funny. Wanna see her? Love my MommaShyner although she needs to match her makeup color a little better.
I hope that your day is filled with cool stuff! There's only a little bit of madness left until a nice, long weekend. Mount up!
* – Hectosity is the crazy state of hectic-ness
I have a friend, we'll call her H. H is very low-maintenance. Always there when I need her. Haven't had a problem with her since we met in September of 2005. Some may say that I'm not the best friend to H. I've left her alone in the rain and at times, I've driven her harder than she prefers, but overall, things aren't so bad between us. (In case you hadn't figured it, H is my car.)
H has, what I at first believed to be, quite a cushy parking spot. She's out of the direct sunlight most of the time, shaded by either our house, or the great mango tree in the front. She used to be happy there and I used to be happy she was there. Now, things have changed.
Iggy (and his wife/life partner) have moved in. There was no warning, no moving van, no "Hi, we're the new neighbors". The only way that I know that the Iggys are around is that they've taken to leaving presents for, or I should say on, H.
The Iggys have made a residence in the mango tree. For the most part, they're quiet neighbors and you wouldn't even know they're there except for one glaring huge middle iguana finger thrust at me on a daily basis….
THEY SHIT ON MY CAR!
I will soon wash the paint off of H because of the daily washing that she needs because the Iggys are disgusting pigs. If you weren't aware, iguanas poop in much the same way as birds. LARGE birds! Every morning I go out to my car, half asleep, to find the present of the day. Today, it looked as though the Iggys put in a joint effort. There's a large section of my back window that I cannot see out of. It's gross. It's annoying. It's offending. Some folks want to call someone to take them away, but as I believe that the Iggy family are all either spies or CIA agents, or Jack Bauers in training, they are never seen.
Now, I am angry. Do not look for me, do not call me, for I will not be around. I am becoming one with the Iggy family. I will hold vigil in my front yard with the necessary equipment to remove the crapmakers. I will think like them, I will look like them, I will eat like them, and I will kill them. Hopefully before I poop on someone else's car.