My car repair bill came in today. After a week of indecisive repairs (it's fixed! it still sucks! it's fixed!! nope! it's FIXED!) the shit decisively hit the fan yesterday. For the past several months we've had a problem with the automatic door locks & overhead lights i.e. sometimes when we're driving, the locks will engage in a strange arrhythmic syncopation. The dome light will stutter on and off, sometimes in agreement to the locks, sometimes not. The whole thing can go on for hours, and it's enough to drive you round the bend. I had always assumed that the problem started with one of my two fender-benders this past year, but as the mechanics assured me that proper repair would be expensive & time-consuming, I was willing to put up with the ghostly chattering locks.

Yesterday the Purple Lassitude was sitting in the driveway, minding her own business. I was down in the basement with Blake, Pixie & Joe, minding my own business. Suddenly the car alarm went off. I was completely unable to hear it in my cave, so my mother, who was trying to sleep after a night shift, had to go out & turn off the alarm. This was bad enough at 10:30 in the morning. But an hour later, it happened again. My mom looked capable of ripping the entire house apart in her fury, so I decided to get the hell out with the offending automobile. Cue a wonderful afternoon in the city.

This morning my dad took the car to dealership (as opposed to the garage that was messing with me all last week), as he is nothing if not hyperactive about car repairs. This evening the car was returned with a new lock cylinder & new wiring to fix the engine trouble. Now that the lock sends the correct info to the main car brain, there are no more chattering noises and no more sudden alarms. I am out of pocket $250, but I am told that I saved $240 when my dad bought the necessary wires from a wholesaler & went back to the first garage to get them installed gratis.

Perhaps I'll be a little less crazy this week now that I have working wheels. I swear that it'd be simpler to just learn how to operate a unicycle.

Blake & I had a busy day today: a long morning nap, a drop-in play date at the local Early Years Centre, home for a bowl of left-over chilli and then out again for exercise class. The morning was the best. I had dressed him in a rather loud outfit of yellow & green dinosaur sweats given to us by the Boy's grandmother. It's not my favourite outfit, but it certainly fit the cooling weather this morning. And I didn't think I cared what Blake wore until we hit the EYC. Suddenly I was hyper aware that every baby was dressed in tasteful matching ensembles that clearly broadcast the gender and socio-economic status of the baby. I suddenly felt like screaming, "it was a gift! a family gift!! everyone says we're lucky that she remembers having a greatgrandson at all! I certainly don't like these colours!"

Fortuantely, I smothered this urge as soon as it arose. What do I care what they think? Besides, by the time we left, Blake was crawling around in his underwear shirt & sweatpants, his collar stained with the fruit juice that he had drooled when he tried to mooch my apple. He was klassy. As, of course, am I.

Ah, they can all go to hell. I love my loud, sticky family.

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 10/05/2004 10:27:00 p.m.