Jun. 24th, 2017

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Yesterday, I had to spend a huge amount of money.

Not on cat toys or wonderful little treats or trips to exotic places, which, to my mind, are the only legitimate ways to spend discretionary income.


I had to spend money on boring, grownup things. Car repairs. Tax payments.

As you may imagine, it felt a bit like being flayed alive.

I comforted myself by noting that as recently as three years ago, spending this money would not have been an option because I did not have this money to spend!

I would have continued driving a car whose steering wheel was primed to snap in half at any second!

I would have continued driving it because you can’t not have a car and live where I live – well, you can and I have, but your quality of life suffers. When my steering wheel finally snapped in half, I would have taken out an entire school bus. A church school bus. Filled with kids with cerebral palsy.

Anyway, though, as I was leaving the mechanic, I noticed that my ABS light was on. That’s the light that signals something’s amiss with your anti-lock breaking system.

I told the guy behind the counter – this was an auto repair chain – who summoned one of the mechanics. Who walked me out to the car. Who determined that the light was on because something was wrong with one of the ABS censors.

“But plenty of people drive with their ABS lights on!” he reassured me. “So just drive it around for a while. If the light’s still on in a couple of weeks, bring it back! Besides, I’m certain that the ABS light was on when you brought it in!”

Uh – no. Just no. Plus you inspected the car, right? And it would not have passed New York State inspection had the ABS light been on.

I’d picked the car up just as the mechanic was closing. So today I have to call the mechanic and explain to them that clearly, they fucked the existing ABS censor up in some way as they were putting on the new struts, and it is their responsibility to make that right.


I cannot believe that mechanic told me to “drive it around” for a few weeks. I mean, that’s almost unethical! If I did that, there would be no way I could argue it was their fuckup. I’d be out another $600.

Dealing with even more car repairs – even if they won’t put me out of pocket – is not the way I wanted to spend my day.

Plus I feel so defenseless so much of the time.

Just a sitting duck for various unscrupulous humans who want to take advantage of me. An old woman, plucky, sure. Mouthy, sure. But with very little in the way of real influence or power.


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