It's back, it's back!  I'd dance and hug it, but it's raining, and it's covered with icky leaves, but I'm sure it understands.

Apparently, the last mechanic put in the sparkplugs wrong last winter.  It was a disaster waiting to happen, and I was just lucky that it happened less than a mile from home, and that I was ON the way home, that I could GET it home, and that it wasn't in the middle of winter with a few feet of snow and ice out.  The new mechanic impressed the hell out of me, because he came TO my house to run the prelim diagnostic, then came back to get my car, then brought my car back to me.  I think I'm in love.  

It was just under a hundred bucks.  Could have been a hell of a lot worse, but it's still more money on the credit card that won't get paid off in ... well, in forever at this point.  And my friends from NJ DID show up on my doorstep Saturday (although they did call from an hour away), took me to pick up the prescription that I would have been out of on Sunday and in a panic about, and also out to lunch.  I've been taken out to eat twice in one month! Such extravagance! (and leftovers!!).  Then Mom came up yesterday with milk (for me) and a banana (for The Phooka).  All that will get me through until I can get out for some groceries tomorrow.  This crisis is hopefully over. 

The almost-two-weeks of no naps is catching up to me.  Big time.  Even my skin aches.  I haven't gone this long without naps since before I got sick back in 2001...

The stitching project is over half-way finished.  Then my brain will shut up and I can sleep again.

Tags: car woes
Current Mood: exhausted

Or at least, that's how it feels.

The mechanic showed up at my door at 3 pm just as he said he would with his little sensor thingie in hand and said he'd do a diagnostic right there.  If there was nothing wrong, he wouldn't charge me.  

Damn, I was impressed.

I slogged out through the rain and the wet leaves (I was actually smart and took the cane -- last thing I need now is to fall flat on my face because I was too damned proud to use it) and watched. Techie gizmos amaze me because I know nuttin' of such stuffs.  He hooked it up to my dashboard and I was SURE, mind you, that the check engine light would further ruin my day by refusing to come on, and he'd say that he was sorry, but unless the car would repeat what it had been doing, he couldn't help.

My wonderful little car lit up like a Christmas tree.  He tracked it right down to something about the first cylinder, and that's as far as he could get without taking the car apart in my driveway.  And my car even further endeared itself to me by repeating the jerky-coughing-chuggy motion for him, too, so I didn't have to make myself look even more like the stereotypical blonde by standing in the rain in said driveway trying to mimic the noise myself.

He also said that as repairs go, this probably isn't that expensive. Of course, his definition of expensive and my definition may be from two different dictionaries.... but at least he doesn't think the engine is about to explode.  He doesn't want me driving it, 'cause pulling out in front of traffic with it like that could be rather... "frantic" was his word.  He was going to call around, put together a rough estimate and call me back.  Since by then it was rather late in the afternoon, I'm not really all that surprised that he hasn't gotten back to me tonight... but now I'm probably stranded at home all weekend without a car, which always freaks me out a bit.  

A friend of my from NJ called me three weeks ago to say that she and her husband were planning on being up in this area this weekend and wanted to stop in for a visit, so to pencil her in.  That was the last I heard. I have no idea if they are coming.  At least they weren't planning on sleeping here, and if they are met at the door by a vague, sleepy, 6 foot tall blonde with unbrushed hair, muttering something about paperweights, cat medicine, stitching deadlines, and vicodin... well, they have no one to blame but themselves. 

Oh, and cat grass.  I planted more grass for the cats.  Who ignore it, but The Phooka loves it and thinks he's getting away with something by eating it.  It's good for him, too, so I let him, then he has the gleeful joy of scampering away, twitching his tail from side to side, and with a happy-leap for joy at thinking he is getting away with something.  It's a hoot to see a rabbit that big .... scampering.  

He moped with me this afternoon.  The Tiki-kitty pretended she was moping with me, but she really just wanted me to feed her early.  The Phooka was helping me to mope.  I had my hand dangling over the edge of the recliner, and every so often, his huge silky head would nuzzle into it.  I'd rub his nose, and he'd let out this long warm sigh of contentment (thus negating his half of the mope) and sink into meatloaf position.  Which, with his winter coat, makes him look rather like a rug.  Three feet long and over ten inches across.  Of pure softieness.

If you're going to mope, a French Lop is the best for a moping partner.

Tags: car woes, rahway, the phooka
Current Mood: moody