I woke up happy that it was Monday. No, I had not had a large pipe of crack before bedtime.
Friday night I set out to see a 10pm sketch show a friend of mine was in. My car started sluggishly, and I made a mental note to have the battery checked.
On the way realized I was very low on gas, so I pulled into a station. After putting gas n the tank, I tried to start the car, but all I got was a mournful ROOOOOoooooooorrr. ..rrr...r and then... nothing. Great.
Now, one of the upsides to always having owned old cars is that you become accustomed to things like this, and to feeling comfortable messing with your car (I once had an ancient Toyota that had a spark plug that would pop out; I'd stop, shove it back in, and keep going; a VW Rabbit with a wonky choke that I adjusted with metal trash-bag ties.)
I can change a tire, and I can jump a car. Jumping a car will always make me nervous, but it's simple and as long as you're not color-blind, you can do it without blowing anything up. I went into the gas station convenience store, where an older man sat behind a window dealing with paying customers, and a younger man was putting sunglasses on a revolving display rack. I watched as he took each set from a box, removed the plastic wrapping, and stuck the side pieces into slots on the display.
"Excuse me," I aid to the younger man, "My car has died, and need a jump. I have cables, but I need a car to jump me. it will take two minutes. Can you help?"
The man looked confused, then called out to the older man something in a language I didn't recognize. The man, never looking up, replied. His tone didn't sound promising.
"No," the younger guy said, holding out his hands in demonstration, "I don't have the cables."
"I have cables, I just need a car to jump." OK, and here is a customer of yours, stranded, and you are a SERVICE station, I thought. You could at least be concerned. And what the hell?!?!? You don't have cables? I would so revoke his man-license.
"Oh, OK. Yes, I can help, but it will be a few minutes." and he returned to the sunglasses.
I went back to my car and called a friend of mine in PA on my cell.
"I am sitting at a gas station at 9:30 at night waiting to have my car jumped. Why am I waiting? Lots of customers? Only one man at the till? No. Because the guy has to finish putting cheap plastic glasses on a display case in preparation for the 10pm gas-station sunwear fashion rush. Oh wait; here he comes -- I'll call you later."
False alarm; he was only getting a notepad out of his van. I called my friend back.
"Can one of the other customers help you?" she asked.
"Yeah, but it's a hassle, and for crying out loud, it's THEIR station. Their GAS station. Whatever happened to service and chivalry? "
Still, I kept a lookout for promising-looking customers. Obama bumper stickers.
Finally, Gas Guy came out and pulled his van up. He did apologize for keeping me waiting, and I was nice because what else was there to do? He seemed a little nervous and unsure of the cables, which made me uneasy about letting him near my car, so I took them and clipped them to his engine, likewise to mine, started my car, and voila.
I drove the car to the street next to my mechanic's shop, parked it, and took the train home. Then I remembered I had a vet appt for Amie, my rabbit, the next morning, an appointment I couldn't miss. By a stroke of luck, an iGo car was free three stations away, near the mechanic, so I reserved it and crashed into bed.
The next morning I got up, took the train to the iGo car, picked it up, drive home, picked up Amie, and headed for the vet.
Her teeth were problematic, as I thought, and she got a trim. But.
"Is that a flake I see?" the vet asked.
CRAP. Crap, crap CRAP.
She did a skin crape and yes, our pals the mites were back. Or had never really left.
So I left with doses of Revolution for both rabbits and both cats, and a weekend that would now be devoted to de-infesting my house. Not to mention the bill.
Dropped Amie off, returned the car, walked to my mechanic. I love this place. I told one of the guys where my car was. "You have the Honda, right?" he asked. They are amazing. He took my key and got the car, and while he checked it I chatted with the owner, whom I just adore. We talked about sleep patterns and taking care of yourself, and he gave me tips for my foot problems that he learned, oh, when he was back in Vietnam studying under the Buddhist priests. In the end I got a new battery and paid the bill.
Next stop, pet-supply store for flea spray and a fogger.
Back home I began dismantling the hutch for sterilization, and cleaning in preparation for spraying on Sunday.
Sunday, bleached the hutch pieces in the tub and let them sit while I vacuumed like mad. Then I put the rabbits in the bathroom, cats in the bedroom, turned on the fogger in the main room and left to meet a friend to explore Hyde Park while the stuff did its work. Returned home later, aired out the room, returned the cats and rabbits to the main room, and wiped the floors of the other rooms with bleach water. Followed up with hand-held flea-spray bottle. Sanitized litter boxes, replacing old litter with new. Did ridiculous amounts of laundry to sanitize bedding, area rugs, towels, clothing.
Re-assembled hutch. Sprayed vacuum and floor sweeper with flea spray. Collapsed into bed at 11:30 pm.
Woke up today thinking, "All I have to do today is sit at a desk."
Biked to work. It was a good Monday.