Fuel Pumped

 

You didn't think the car was fixed, did you?

No, it's really effing not fixed.

I got in the car this morning and, sure, enough the same warning that has haunted me for years reappeared.

So I went back to the service center in Port Chester. I was taken in quickly and sat back down in the same place I did yesterday.

I'll spare you the details.

The car needs a fuel pump. That, of course, is not cheap.

Oh, I know. "Cry me a river." Well, allow me a few paragraphs to self loathe, please.

Oh, I guess it can get me to the stadium tomorrow and to Rhode Island -- TWICE -- over the next week.

But it won't pass the Connecticut emissions test.

And, to add to it, the service center could do the work on Monday.  Great, right? 

Except I have to teach Monday. In Stratford. Eventually, I have to drive back to Rhode Island.

No, I can't get the work done until the following Monday.

Sean will be away, for instance. Not his fault. He even offered me his car but there's no way to make that happen without jumping through hoops that simply don't work.

It's a perfect storm, if you will, of issues, led by money, of course.

I'm currently irrationally pissed off if you want the truth.

And I simply have to stop this post here because I can feel a long boiling rage creeping to my fingers as I type.

So, there's that.

Happy Friday.

*****

I wrote the bulk of this hours ago and am going to leave it as is.

As is always the case the wisdom of time and the love of people who you talk to helped to cool me down a bit.

I'm still annoyed, of course, but I'm not seeing as much red as I did earlier.

The sun, of course, will come out tomorrow and I'll go about my business.

The thing is that you can't just tell me things are going to be OK. That doesn't work. I generally need a reason to believe that.

*****

Most of the takes on the Olympic boxing controversy involving Imane Khelif of Algeria have proven that people prefer hot takes and don't like to read.

She was born a woman. Her passport says so as well. That's enough for the Olympics.

Yet people just react.

And that's pretty much all I have to say about that.

*****

Aug 2 was the day we lost both Thuman Munson (1979) and Vin Scully (2022).

Both are missed tremendously.