The unexpected has hit
Just when I was like "Oooh, I get my house back, and can get back into the rhythms of normal life" -
I get the phone call: "Bokkie, my car has packed up. They can't look at it till Monday."
What the heck!
What sort of service is that!?
The ramifications of this are obvious: it doesn't take a rocket science, after all
My car is, for this duration, no longer going to be 'my car'
The Man is a very busy person - needing to be IN TOWN daily - needing to get there - in my car.
I will be carless.
Just when the stuff the I do is getting into its stride
I know I sound like a spoiled brat.
A kugel, dahl.
And maybe I am one but -
WE. ARE. NOT. AMUSED.