I sustained a thrifting injury on Thursday: I got stabbed in the leg by a protruding piece of metal on one of the Goodwill-by-the-pound tables. I should probably get a tetanus shot, or sue the place if I get infected. I did manage to get 16 pairs of resellable shoes for as many dollars, but the tetanus shot will set me back $45.
My car battery is dead. I'm charging it right now with an ancient charger that's plugged in to the garage. I've got quote requests out for auto body parts. So far one salvage yard has gotten back to me. They've got the part I need, but it's gold. If you have seen my car, you know it's dark blue. I could embrace the whole piecemeal bootleg car look but I figured I'd do some more research first.
My ipod is also dead. I did a ridiculous driving favor for a friend a few days ago that resulted in me taking the bus home. This in itself is not such a big deal, except that I missed one bus because the favor took too long, missed another one because I was walking, and plus also I was counting on the pod to keep the crazies out of my grill. The music started skipping and the screen faded to black. "Poor me," I thought for reals. And then "Poor ME," I thought sarcastically. I mean my stupid yuppie technology craps out as my strong legs carry me along a sunny 1.5 miles uphill, my favorite way to walk, and I've got cash in my pocket and someplace to go? Cry me a damn river whitegirl.
If the pod is truly dead, it's going to be a serious setback in my running career, though. I'm not joking.
Did you know that apartment-hunting sucks? Let me just remind you, in case you haven't done it recently, that it does. First, I hate calling people; second, most places are too ugly or too expensive. It's also hard to imagine going from a house painted to my specifications to a white, carpeted suite of rooms.
Also, I vacuumed the street yesterday, again. Safety glass chunks, begone!