"W" Stands For Wrong.

I'll admit that I have a few behaviors and beliefs that are a bit left of center. I have a disturbingly short list of Sheep Approved foods and rarely change my daily menu. I obsess endlessly and publicly over the smallest of disruptions in my life. I believe that the zombies will one day arise and attack.

There are those who claim that I am just a couple of quirks shy of a tin foil hat but I believe that they just haven't learned to appreciate my unique character. And I would never wear a tin foil hat. Silver is not a good color on me. I find that it makes me look sallow. Should I ever take the full ride to crazy, I will do so with a glowing complexion.

I'll admit that clinging to odd belief systems can lead to judgement errors. Sometimes it really is best to march to the beat of the collective drummers. But, it doesn't always work out that way.

Just the other day it was reported on the local news that zombies were fleeing a burning factory a mere town away from my current locale. The fact that they were filming a movie was not lost on me. (they do that every once in a while around here...) But, I am viewing the whole thing as a training exercise and a generally good thing for the community.

I have believed for some time now that my truck is sentient and something of a needy, whiny, fussy baby. It will periodically and pathetically flash pictures of various engine-y type things at me in what I have come to believe is a childish bid for attention. I don't blame it really. I am not the best of vehicle owners. I am known to let oil changes lapse and no car of mine has any real hope of regular washings. But I refuse to be held hostage by a hunk of metal. I am using the 'tough love" method of vehicle maintenance and do not always respond to it's histrionics. Eventually, the lights will go out and the truck will behave itself.

This, however, is often the cause of great distress on the part of those fine gentleman who are responsible for the care 'n repair of my truck. They are great believers in the lights and see deep meaning in them. So, despite my better judgement, I opted to mention the fact that the battery light has been on lately and they eagerly agreed to test the it for me. There was almost a giddy atmosphere amongst the mechanics this morning when I came in for my scheduled oil change.

"She's really going to let us do this...we should get a cake or something!!!"

"Wait! I need to call my mom; she's never going to believe I was actually here for this!"

"Dude...are you crying?"

"::sniff:: No, I just have something in my eye. Can't a guy have something in his eye without everyone making a federal case about it?"


The battery was tested with great fanfare. And it is fine. Never before in the history of battery tests has there ever been a battery with such charge and strength of battery-ness. It is the king of all batteries. The other cars all had battery envy. I was not wrong.

Thus, when I stood yet again at the service desk, flapping my arms and crying out in a strident voice that my truck is psychotic, I didn't get the usual pitying looks from the five assembled mechanics. There were actually a few nods and chuckles. I didn't get any of the cake, either...

But I wasn't wrong.

In knitting patterns, a W followed by an S stands for "wrong side." As in, "pick up the stitches for the collar on your almost completed sweater from the wrong side or your collar will be inside out." Pity I didn't catch that. Might've saved me some time. And a little bit of dignity.

Turns out The Sheep can still manage to pull off some of the wrong even on a day when she has scored a whole lotta right.

SA