R e a l i t y F i s h

Okay, this time, Death Wish is definitely up to something.

No matter how much you might try to justify it, singing Baby Got Back to an actual baby is pretty trashy.

Only a short post today due to unfathomable quantities of work that I’ve procrastinated on almost to the point of mootness (is mootness a word?), but the two-toned mole is just a two-toned mole! Hurrah!

Tonight The Wookiee and I will celebrate with one of the twelve bottles of wine that The Wookiee’s Dad sent to us after he cleaned out his basement. Which, come to think of it, is also cause for celebration. Hurrah again!

Robin G: We’re stealing Momma’s parking space,
parking space, parking space,
We’re stealing Momma’s parking space,
All the live-long day!

Why do we steal the parking space?
Parking space, parking space?
Why do we steal the parking space?
So we don’t have to walk!

The Gambit: *burbles*

Robin G: Fine, then, you come up with something.

I gaped at the expense total. “Seventeen hundred?“

The mechanic nodded sagely. “Yes.” Then he spent fifteen minutes explaining why if we didn’t get everything wrong on our car fixed right that second, we would most assuredly be taking our lives into our hands.

“But it’s just a squeak! Which part of this is the squeak?”

He pointed to a few items at the top of the list, totaling about two hundred dollars.

“So… I’ll get the squeak fixed. The car won’t burst into flames if we drive it off the lot, right?”

“No, but…” He trailed off ominously.

I do not have the credit score for a car loan. I do not have the money to buy a new car outright. AND I don’t have the money for $1700 of repairs. Instead, I shall throw myself on the mercy of The Organizer’s mechanic, and pray that he can get this done more cheaply.

This has been a tiring month.