Simple??? Not so much...

It was a simple plan, really. Take the truck in for the required brake work, head over to the pharmacy to pick up the prescription I dropped off yesterday then go enjoy the rest of my day. Sure, it would be tough hanging out at the garage for two hours and then handing over two hundred or so dollars for the privilege, but it would be worth it to put an end to that horrible whining noise!!!! (the truck, not the sheep)

You know what they say about "the best laid plans" and all...

Now, I'm no car expert. In fact, I lack the knowledge to even begin to speak coherently with the mechanics on duty. I have been known, upon being asked what type of oil I would like, to put on a thoughtful face, stroke my chin for a moment and respond sagely, "Olive." You'd think they'd find this funnier. But they don't.

My best hope, really, is to pull the good bra from the back of the drawer, put on a snug t-shirt and hope for the best. This does not always work.

After the first hour in the waiting area, I was joined by a mother and preteen daughter. Obviously, this was not how Miss Preteen wanted to spend her day because I was treated to her rendition of "see how I can take single syllable words and drawn them out into three or four syllables" for a good fifteen minutes before I opted to go take a little walk. Those of you who have yet to bear witness to the syllable trick will simply need to imagine words like "no" and "what" and "so" spake in the haughtiest of tones and elongated to ensure that all and sundry were aware that her mother is clearly the stupidest woman on the face of the planet for requesting that she cease kicking the chairs or wandering off amongst the tire displays.

Upon returning from my little "time out" I was greeted by a somber looking mechanic who suggested that I might like to sit down. I recognized the look on his face. I've seen it before. It is the look that says, "your fun-filled summer is over because we will now be collecting the last of your monies." It also is the look that says, "you will be walking home today."

It seems that I know more about cars than I thought. I actually did question their initial diagnosis based on my belief that a car should not scream in protest when asked to make a left. But I was assured that my vehicle, and I quote here, was "in excellent shape."

Sadly, my thoughts on the matter will not count towards payment of the final bill. It seems that my rack and pinions are neither racking nor pinioning. The original $200.00 estimate swelled instantly to $700.00 in the mere blink of an eye.

And, yes, I walked home.

I had been planning on taking a med. break soon anyway. I just hadn't planned on taking it today. Once I made it home, I was tuckered out and didn't feel like trekking the extra mile or so to the pharmacy. Thus, there has been little accomplished today save for screwing up the heel- turning on the sock, fending off headaches and chasing metaphorical butterflies. Without the Concerta, I'm not exactly what you'd call productive. I think about doing alot of stuff...but...um...what was I saying????

Meanwhile, let's do a little translation here just so everybody will understand the magnitude of this little vehicular investment: cost of fixing truck= approx. 35 balls of Socks That Rock. (give or take a ball or two)

See what I'm saying here?

SA