This was supposed to be a good day. I was going to go to work and put in some overtime, then travel across town to go to this brewery tour and tasting, offered by people who I looked forward to know, then the National Collegiate Hockey Conference Championship Game at Target Center, then My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Division), then My Favorite Late-Night Italian Place, then home.
Two things changed that. First of all, when driving away from work, I took a left and the goddamn, motherfucking stalling issue came back. It scared the shit out of me, mostly because I was taking two lefts (which I thought were going to be absolutely no problem) on my way to the far end of St. Paul. I hoped it would go away, but it happened again leaving the brewery and again leaving downtown after the game.
In a panic I called The Other Mechanic Around The Corner. I don't know if I got a mechanic, but they told me to call today (Sunday), even though I thought the shop was closed. If I get someone, and I am able to bring the car in to get it fixed Monday before work, fantastic. But I'm also afraid that they have already committed their loaner cars to people on Monday, which means I'll have to risk driving (or not driving) a stalled car in traffic for work. Not fun. Let alone the fact that I though my fucking car was fixed but it still goddamn isn't.
Meanwhile, I had time before the game to deposit my check from my test scoring place, and I decided that as long as I was at the ATM I would take out some money for tickets to Saturday night's game or, potentially, Sunday afternoon's NCAA women's hockey championship game. I hedged and got only $40, but I finally, after about a month of not looking, gazed at my outstanding balance. And it was frighteningly lower than I thought it was. And assuming that the total I saw on my receipt is the amount after the deposit, for the rest of my day I'm asking myself where my fucking money went.
That question shrouded the rest of my night. I felt guilty buying the NCHA Frozen Faceoff program. Right now I am not thinking about going to tomorrow's game even though Minnesota has a chance of romping their way to a title. (Well, there's a chance that Harvard upsets them, and besides, I don't think I'm going to spend $100 for a scalped ticket.) And after thinking that I was going to stay at the strip club for an hour, I left after tipping just one girl. I just wasn't feeling spending money. Of course, I'm typing this right now after buying and eating a whole pizza. Guess I'll spend money if I'm feeling sorry for myself.
So after I blog about this I'll go home, restart my computer, check my checking account and -- gulp -- finally open my statement to make absolutely sure I charged every single transaction. My God, my fucking money's going through my fingers as soon as I get it. And I can't afford that because I need to fuckin' fix my goddamn car, again.
Fuck my life.
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