Apparently, The Check Engine Light Being On Is Not A Problem To Some People

I've started to talk to people about the plight with my car.  It's partly to vent, but deep down inside, I think I am reaching out so that other people can relate, and so I won't feel so alone, which I feel right now.

My co-worker told me that she has driven with both her check engine and low tire pressure light for a couple years now.  A couple years??  She says she knows the problem is with the sensors and that the warning lights aren't indicative of anything worse.  But really, two years??  I was driving with all four of those damn indicators on yesterday and I still had a heart attack whenever I saw them!

I guess some people get used to it.  Which brings up a story I may or may not have shared here on Wailing And Failing already.  I was dropping off my car for some damn thing at The Mechanic Around The Corner.  They had loaners, but since this was an independent shop the loaner car was a beat-up sedan.  But hey, it gets me around, so who cares.  I'm driving and looking at the dashboard.  Everything looked normal ... until, I think, I saw a yellow dot.  That's weird.  I moved my head around while driving for some reason and I saw an extension of that yellow dot.  And that's when I put the car in park and craned my head off to the side, right around where I would be able to lean over and look at the dash if I were in the passenger seat.  And there I saw the check engine light on on this loaner.  It was on the whole time.  However, the mechanics put black tape over the dashboard so that anyone who was driving it would most likely not see it and freak out.

In a way, that's absolute genius.  It speaks to how they most likely think the car would operate just fine with the Check Engine light on (and it did, by the way) while also understanding that other people wouldn't see it quite that way.  And it's apparent that my co-worker is totally at peace with hers being on in her car.  Still astounds me, but maybe other people just drive with that on.  Could there be tens of thousands of drivers just driving with that amber light on in their cars?  Hundreds of thousands?  Millions?  If so, are they neglecting their cars, or do they know better not to overreact?

thudthudthudthud

Now there is something seriously wrong with my car.  It seemed to have started Friday morning when I backed down my driveway real hard to the point where my front seemed to have hit a hole or an ice divot or something.  But when I got up to a moderate speed and steered (I think to the left, but it could have been to the right), I both heard and felt this rhythmic thudding.  It was similar to the time when I brought my car to a new shop (at least for me; I think the place has been where it is for years) to replace the sparkplugs and shortly after I left I heard this thumping noise whenever I braked.  It might be related for all I know.

But it's gotten worse.  It was bad driving on the highway down to downtown Friday after work, but it was OK taking the side streets back up home.  But then I drove it everywhere yesterday/Saturday and it was just bad no matter how or how fast I drove my car -- highway speeds or slow, steering to the left or to the right (actually, it might be OK steering to the right), accelerating or coasting.  It's OK while idling and that's it.

Now, I have to say that my car seems to be driving just fine.  The noises when I change lanes are getting louder and louder to the point where I don't think I can drive that thing until I get it fixed.  But ... if I weren't so damn anxious, could I just, you know, drive it like this, with the thumping getting louder and happening more and more often, because it's still driving right?  The thumping is a sign of something that will get worse, so eventually I would have to bring it in before I, like, break an axel.  But maybe I'm scaring myself.  Maybe I don't have to bring it in Tuesday or Wednesday like I think I will.

But I will.  I have Wednesday off, so maybe ideally that would be the day to bring it in.  But I have an itching to get this fixed ASAP, and I don't think The Mechanic Around The Corner has a spot for me Monday because I feel as though all the spots for the beginning of the week are already taken with cars whose owners want maintenance done on them.  So Tuesday it might be.  Speaking of days off, I was hoping for just one day to simply hang out and with my wang out with a care in the world.  Well, I have this to care about, so that ain't happenin'.  I also will probably have to spend a good plop of dough on, what, new shocks, a bearing, C/V joints, rotors?  I just got one of my credit card bills and Jesus fucking Christ, I'm going through a lot of money ... and I will be going through even more on my trip to Hawai'i.  And now, this on top of that.  And I hate all of this.

One Mistake And I Sabotage My Whole Day ... And Get An Adventure To Go Along With It

Yesterday/Monday morning I woke up bright and early around 8:30.  Went to bed around 4, but the previous day I got a big sleep in plus added a nap in the early evening, so that checks out.  At least I had the opportunity to do all the things I wanted to do -- get one of the cars washed, get my shoes shined, go to Hooters and see that babe waitress, drop off the dry cleaning, get gasoline for the car with the online coupon that expired that day, and maybe even get a nap in before going to work!

And I had time to check the coolant level in my car.  It was low, so I went into the trunk and grabbed the leftover antifreeze jug that's been lying around and topped it off.  But hey, it looks funny.  And then I saw it was the kind where you're supposed to dilute it with distilled water.  I didn't.  Whoops.

But maybe that's no big deal!  So I Googled it ... and the first two entries warn me that pure and concentrated coolant will actually overheat the car.  Fuck me.

I had to call The Mechanic Around The Corner.  Couldn't go anywhere else because, hey, what if the car overheats?  They couldn't get me in right away, but I could come in in the afternoon, just before I go to work.  If it they can pull it off, it sounds perfect.

But in the meantime I have to scramble.  What I thought I would be doing in my car I would instead be doing in my parents' minivan, and I'd have to do it with about one fewer hour available because I needed to get home to drive my car to the shop.  Yet I was undaunted.  I had several hours to kill and I wanted to see if I still could do all the things I wanted to do.  And besides, I had the minivan that has a new water pump, timing belt, motor mount and brakes.  It should drive me anywhere and everywhere I wanted to go.  If it didn't, The Mechanic Around The Corner has some things to answer to.

And you know what?  The minivan held up.  Drove it down a side street to get it washed, then drove it downtown, then down to the Mall Of America, then back up to Roseville to drop off the dry cleaning, then I filled it up with gas (instead of my car, which was my intention) before going home and immediately taking the car I inadvertently poisoned to get it flushed out of its body.  I felt the key after I parked it; it was hot, indicating the inside was getting real hot.  But the thermometer never went above what it was supposed to be, thank Buddha.

Now this is where I tell you all the plans that went awry.  Went downtown, but my shoeshiner wasn't there.  Then I went to the Megamall Hooters, but that babe waitress, who says she works Monday afternoons, wasn't there.  I ate there anyway because I had a buy-ten-boneless, get-ten-boneless free coupon off of the calendar.  But honestly, if I had known beforehand neither of them would be there, I wouldn't have bothered to go.  Would've saved me some time.

And worst of all, when I walked down to The Mechanic Around The Corner to drive off with my flushed car, I was told they hadn't gotten around to it.  They could get it done by the end of business day, but I'm working second shift all week, so I could pick it up in the morning -- or the afternoon, if I am sleeping in.

Just because they didn't get my car serviced when they said they would (the manager told me a couple of her mechanics called in sick and they got a ton of tow-ins last minute ... ?), I was given a loaner to take to work.  I had used one of their loaners before, and I realized late in my use of the car for the day that there was a strategically-placed strip of black tape on the dashboard.  If you looked around the piece of tape, you would see that the check engine light was on.  So, the mechanics just put that tape on in that spot so people using it wouldn't freak the hell out.  Actually, that's kind of genius.

There wasn't that on this loaner.  But I got pretty much everything else.  First thing I noticed was that, when I opened the door and instinctively knocked the side of my boot against the bottom railing of the front door to loosen the snow off of my Doc's, the railing shook.  (I noticed later that the passenger side had no railing.  All it had was rust.)  The car looked dirty.  Smelled too, but with an overpowering fragrance that makes you think it is overpowering because it's supposed to mask the nasty-ass scent that's there for real.  I was given two keys; apparently, one is to open the door and the other is to turn the engine on.  All night I was mixing the two.  Oh, and when you use the key to open the door, you have to turn it counter-clockwise.  Usually it's clockwise, am I right?  Finally, and this is the worst, the windshield wipers don't retract to its position at the bottom of the windshield.  Instead, if you stop the wiper feature, it stops at the other end of its pattern -- with the left one right up against the left side of the windshield, and the right one right in my line of sight.  I tried driving it with it going on intermittently because then the wipers spend most of their time at the bottom of the windshield and out of my way.  But there was no rain, and so the wipers would make these louder and louder grinding noises to the point where I just preferred to shut it off and cock my head to the left so as not to see the windshield right in my face.

And yet it got me where I wanted it to take me: To work, then some late-night grocery shopping at a 24-hour Cub Foods, then home.  It had trouble getting up the driveway when even the minivan didn't have an issue; I'm guessing the loaner has balding tires.  Can I complain about the car I got?  Well, I drove pass The Mechanic Around The Corner and saw that unlike the minivan, which they kept locked up in one of their bays, my car is outside, waiting for it to be broken into.  If someone messes with my car, then yeah, even though it has nothing to do with the loaner vehicle I have, I would complain.  My car gets effed up because you couldn't bleepin' flush the coolant in time?

Then again, I could have avoided all of this crap if I didn't pour the wrong damn antifreeze into my car.

So I Took The Minivan Out For A Drive ...

... even though, frankly, I was scared to drive it.  And it's been fixed!  I mean, if I was so scared to be without a back-up car that I spent more than $1,300 on repairs for this one, why in the hell would I be scared of driving the back-up car?  Sure, a new water pipe (with attendant timing belt change, and a new mount, and brakes and rotors too) may not have been necessary, and I sure could have been ripped off.  But I assume that whatever The Mechanic Around The Corner did, the minivan would ... you know, drive, right?  So what am I so afraid of?  I have to know if the minivan works, and I have to know if those guys didn't fix it.

I was going to drive it to the closest Buffalo Wild Wings to me in order to catch the Second Half of the College Football Playoff Final, but the damn place closed by 9 p.m.  Damn COVID ... I guess, although it would have been nice if the Google search and the B-Dubs website both updated the hours for this place.  Which meant that I spent a half-hour driving the minivan there and back without stopping.  Honestly, half the time I wasn't looking at the windshield but at the thermostat, afraid it'd slowly inch upward until it hit the red.  I remember being stopped at red lights, nervously rubbing the steering wheel and grinding my teeth.

But, I made it home.  And the needle on the thermostat was where it was supposed to be at optimal operation: Just below level.  So, do I trust driving it?  Eh, not yet.

Gotta Get Around To, You Know, My Stuff

When my parents left for the winter, I once again had the space and the time to take all my stuff from my storage unit, sift through them, read the magazines and newspapers I have kept all these years so that I would one day read them, put copies of Entertainment Weekly and programs for sporting events in their separate bags, and finally throw as much of the crap I have away.

Well, we're coming up on seven weeks and I haven't done jack.  Well, let me take that back -- I read the first thing I put in my bags of stuff, a copy of the late, lamented Star Tribune-created alternative weekly Vita.MN (which was put down when the Strib but the standard-bearing alternative weekly City Pages ... which was also put down by the Strib last year, presumably because of the pandemic), uh, just last night.  The cover story was that year's South By Southwest.  It was from March of 2011.  Yep, almost eleven years I kept it.  It's now in the recycling bag, but a part of me wonders if it's worth something.  Nah.

I have dozens of bags of that.  Dozens.  I am so overwhelmed that I should just chuck it in the recycling bin.  But, goddammit, I made a promise to myself that each one of these pieces of ... stuff has something worth reading at least once, even if the information on it is more than a decade old.  So I soldier on.  No, that's not true; I continue to possess them in the increasingly vain hopes that I will pay proper attention to each piece and in good faith read and consider them before either keeping it for posterity's sake or finally disposing of them.  There's just so many that it's intimidating and that's why I've barely started, that's all.

Called Mother last night.  Wanted to slightly and calmly act as if things are back to normal after The Mechanic Around The Corner ratted me out to them about their minivan.  See, the garbage wasn't picked up yesterday morning, and although they came around in the evening (possibly while I took a nap after work, and picking up more liquor, and eating at Jersey Mike's), I took the opportunity to reach out to my folks by asking if our trash is still picked up on Thursdays.  Anyway, after Mother said that it was, we moved on quickly to other things.  I thought that they told me they were coming home.  I almost had a heart attack.  But I misunderstood what they were saying.  They actually are in Utah for the time being, but will be back in Las Vegas in several days.  Good thing, because I still have a bunch of my stuff that I, well, intend to get around to, and that's not even counting all of my crap that is piling up in my storage unit.

I have other thoughts as to what I'm doing instead of going through my stuff, and what those opportunity costs show what I value.  Maybe I'll put that in another blog post.  Let's just say that it's high time I get around to going through my stuff.

I Don't Know If I Trust My Parents Or The Mechanic Around The Corner Less

So my fears of going to The Mechanic Around The Corner, and its subsequent trust issues, have been realized.  So not only did they have to replace the water pump and, because of its location, the timing belt as well (allegedly; I have no fucking way to figure out 100% if both parts needed to be replaced), they called me at work today saying that, in putting the engine back together, they "discovered" that a motor mount needed replacing.  But I OK'd that; it's an old minivan, and I can see My Father deciding not to fix something like that.  But he's not fuckin' here, and I am, and I determined I need a backup car just in case, so I gave the approval to get new mounts.

But oh no, that was not all.  I got cut from work early, and I was grateful this time because I got to use the snowblower on my driveway and then get to the car repair shop to pick up my car.  When I drove home, I called them while I was in my car.  No, it was not ready when I called because it just so happened that they also "discovered" that the brake rotors and pads were worn to the nub, and they were frantically trying to get the parts in order to replace them.  Mind you that unlike with the mount, they did not call me.  They just decided the brakes needed to be replaced, and they did them.  And as grateful I could be though to be, I'm kind of pissed because they in fact did not call me in order to OK the charges.

Oh yeah, about the calling ... they did fuck up, in fact, when Mother called me the previous evening about a message they got.  I called The Mechanic Around The Corner twice during the workday and they, if I have this right, did admit they called My Fucking Father's phone.  Apparently, even though I told them when I dropped off the minivan that any questions should be directed to my phone number, one of those dumb motherfuckers either forgot or didn't bother to heed my message and called My Fucking Father instead.  I would not call it a misunderstanding, rather a refusal to do what I told them to do.  And that does piss me off because now I've been had by my parents.

So I hope you understand my plight now.  On the one hand, this car repair shop is hitting me up for charges after saying, "Well, we were doing this and we just happened to notice that ..."  (This is why My Fucking Father is so mistrustful of car repair places.  Long time ago, when I still had the Lexus, I took it into a reputable independent shop who said I needed the mounts replaced.  I called My Fucking Father ... and he drove over to that shop to refuse the fix recommendations in person and get the car back -- and I think he was being a rude asshole to the people working there.  I hear they're still a good place to bring in your car, but I have never gone back there because of the embarrassing way My Fucking Father treated them.  And this was about two decades ago!)  On the other hand, My Fucking Father is fucking notorious when it comes to skimping on things he does not want to spend money on.  He'll go on a two-month cruise, but a grand to fix a workhouse vehicle?  Are you fucking kidding me?

In the end, I let those car mechanics fix whatever they claimed needing fixing, and I just threw up my hands and waited for 48 hours before getting the minivan back.  It seemed fine on the way home, which was short, but they had warmed it enough so that the thermostat would be as hot as it gets under normal driving conditions, and by the time I got the minivan home it was where it should have been: A little bit lower than halfway, but not fluctuating and certainly not spiking upward.  So yes, maybe the water pump was broken.  But I can never be too sure if they're leaning on a fear I have of being stuck by the side of the road with a broke-down car, asking any friendly face within earshot, "Hey, that's how it's usually done.  Do you want to come back a month from now for a problem we could prevent today?"  Not to mention that I couldn't tell if the engine was shaking underneath the hood.  I can tell you that the minivan braked as well as any other car on the road, so I don't know why or how The Mechanic Around The Corner decided I needed new rotors and pads.

I just hope my parents don't stick their noses further into this.  I am now of the belief that the message they left on My Fucking Father's phone happened late yesterday morning -- after they did the diagnostic on the minivan but before moving on fixing whatever it was that needed fixing.  If the needle is threaded like that, I can tell my folks that I did bring it in for a diagnostic test, but they found nothing, so I brought it back home, and they would have no idea I dropped $1,300+ to reinvigorate a work vehicle that may not need all that reinvigorating.

Honestly, I'm just glad the car is home and seemingly all fixed.  But I feel as though I got screwed by one side of this mistrust standoff (even though, to be fair, it does not look as though they charged me for the brake pads and rotors) while the other just refuses to get a broken car repaired because he's militant about spending money the way he wants to.  Lord, help me break free from this cage.

Did Those Dumb And Lazy Car Repair Motherfuckers Rat Me Out?

So when I called The Mechanic Around The Corner while I was at work (I asked them to call me, which may be relevant; see below), they told me probably the worst-case scenario: The water pump is not sealing anymore, and since they need to get to the timing belt in order to repair the water pump, they might as well change the timing belt, too.  It's over a grand.

I initially said no.  But then I figured that I could use a second car in case my main one is in the shop or, Buddha forbid, it breaks down for no good reason.  Plus, I have the money for it.  Finally, my parents aren't here, so what can they do?  So I immediately called the guy back and told him I changed my mind, and go ahead with the fix.  I'll get it end of day today ... assuming I can trudge down there on my own, braving the blowing snow and cold, all without falling and freezing to death.

But about my parents not being here?  There's a good chance they now know I've brought it in for repairs, goddammit.  Driving home from the gym I get a call from Mother on Father's phone.  She said they heard a voicemail from someone about, and please pay attention to this, a car needing repair on the "passenger side," or something.  Just going by what she said, I don't know what the hell she's talking about -- fucking language barrier erupts from the ground again -- and she specifically mentions the make of my main car and not the minivan.  But I have to go with the logic here: The guys at the shop called Father's phone instead of mine.

Might need to back up a bit.  I don't remember bringing the minivan to The Mechanic Around The Corner.  But they have a record of the van there.  So either I brought it in unbeknownst to my parents knowing and I forgot that I had, or they brought it in.  Either way, they have Father's number.  Maybe I'm wrong, but I can see them leaving a message on Father's cell telling them the diagnosis of the pressure test for which I brought in the minivan.  He is the owner, after all, so I can see one of the dudes there lazily just looking up his number and leaving a message for him -- even though I made a point, as I was dropping off the van, that they needed to call me, not Father.

You may have sensed Mother's reaction to what this VM could have been: Do not pay them to fix the car.  They've always been so fucking cheap when it comes to car repairs: Don't agree to the repairs they say the car needs, then go to some brokedown immigrant chop shop where they'll, like, replace the intake manifold gasket for $10, and then probably they won't do all the things the car needs and instead will do only the bare minimum so that the car can get by.  That's why My Fucking Mother freaked out.

Not going to do it.  Not going to back out and take the minivan back without the repair to the supposedly damaged water pump.  The thought of an insurance car in case my main one fails me was too much security to ignore.  (Aside: I remember in a previous blog post saying that I was deathly afraid The Mechanic Around The Corner will rip me off.  If they called Father even though I told them to only call me, I could then see them being dumb enough to think the guts of the minivan have to be completely ripped off when it's something else.  Honestly, I have forgotten that sentiment right now.  I just want the minivan to be fixed.  I was acting a lot more cynical in that previous blog post.  So, does that make me a hypocrite?  Well, that's a fair argument.)  But now I have to check in with those guys tomorrow morning to make goddamn sure that if they need to talk to someone, they talk to me and not Father or Mother.  And then I have to get to the bottom of who called my folks when they weren't supposed to, and I might rip a new asshole to someone and thus napalm the bridge to a car mechanic that is reachable on foot.  I'm praying that this is all a big misunderstanding, but I have to believe that those dumb and lazy car repair motherfuckers inadvertently ratted me out because of their inattention.

Yeah, I'm Taking In The Minivan

I haven't tried driving the minivan since trying it around the block Christmas Eve -- have I blog posted about this yet? -- but I still am afraid that the radiator isn't good.

I have gone back-and-forth about this, but just for my piece of mind, I am going to cradle the van over to The Mechanic Around The Corner tomorrow and ask them to take a look at it.  I will do this (well, unless I totally change my mind between now and then ) while not totally believing those guys have my best interest in mind.  It's a crappy vehicle, but it reliably runs.  So I wonder whether they'll use its superficially decrepit state to say that, say, I need a new radiator when in fact I don't.  Not to say that I know it doesn't need a new radiator.  But after going to them the last time I went (for a busted starter in my main car) and seeing them without masks and not taking my discount, I don't completely trust them.  (Have I blog posted about that yet?)  I would go try someone else if I feel as though I could drive my car farther than I trust driving it right now.  But since it's the damn radiator I'm afraid of, I can only drive it so far.  I'm just glad I have enough money that I can deal with getting ripped off if they do.  I hope I don't.

Planning Out The Last Week Of 2021

I have been anxious because the forecast called for a couple bouts of snow, the second of which will finally be followed by the usual cold snap that will finally plunge us below zero.  Now that I know the timing and the amount -- and now that I know that the first goddamn snowfall I'll be stick around for is finally here -- I can at least plan my week, and allow time for my anxieties to take over my soul.

I drove the minivan around the block.  I was afraid the thing would overheat before I made it back.  But not only was I fine, it didn't really warm up even as I parked it back on the driveway.  I revved it up a couple times to get it to what I think is its maximum temperature on the thermostat if everything was fine.  But I didn't want to stay there and wait when I had my traditional Christmas Eve shopping sojourn (lunch at Hooters followed by picking up Cheesecake Factory at Southdale) and I already pushed everything back.  However, I popped the hood and saw that the antifreeze I poured into the reserve tank was nearly all gone.  I swear the last time I checked it, it was more than full.  That convinces me that even if everything is fine with the radiator, I want to have it checked with someone, and probably The Mechanic Around The Corner because I still don't know if I can drive the minivan any farther before it overheats.

I then have to plan on a day to bring it in, probably after work (they'll keep it overnight, hopefully they'll investigate in the morning, and anything they need to fix can be done some time in the afternoon, then I'll pick it back up when I get back from work).  It was going to be this week, but since I'll be busy shoveling snow not once but twice this week (let alone worrying about sliding around in an old minivan), I'll just wait until next week and pray my car makes it on its own.  I wish I could get this problem -- and, more importantly, my anxiety -- behind me as soon as I can, but the winter storms will make that impossible, and at least I have clarity as to what I cannot do this week.

New Year's looms at the end of the week.  I don't think it's as fraught with stuff I plan on doing, even though there is stuff I plan on doing.  Unless they have an outbreak of COVID-19, I will be back to ringing in the New Year with my high school friends and their kids.  My favorite Hooters waitress was not around last Friday/Christmas Eve, so I'll probably go back there this Friday/New Year's Eve in the hopes of seeing her.  And maybe before or after I'll pop by ***e* so she can give me a handjob.  This limbo week, the last week of the year, the one between Christmas and New Year's, is weird in that there is a certain segment of the population that has or will take the whole week off, so in essence it still feels like holiday season.  And besides, I have Friday off, so I can do all the above things.  So I have that going for me.

I just have to find time to figure out what to eat and when.  The most pressing concern right now, and I know this is kind of shallow, is to complete this "task" the Chipotle app gave me where they'll reward me with beaucoup points if I order each of the five, uh, "vehicles" in which to eat Chipotle -- burrito, burrito bowl, salad, tacos and quesadilla -- by New Year's Day.  I thought I already did it, but I haven't gotten the points yet, and I don't know which of the "vehicles" I have to purchase again in order to finally get those points.  And I have to decide which days to buy Chipotle, and I have to order it around the days I need to get home and plow/shovel.

Now, add that to the perishable food I bought -- the two cheesecakes I still have, the prosciutto and cheeses, the lemons and limes for the alcohol I'm making for myself -- and I have to plan, probably more carefully than I am now, what to eat and when.  Because, damn, it's a lot.  And maybe I bit off more than I can chew.  So there's eating out and getting the minivan fixed and, well, maybe this last week of 2021 is going to be busier than it should be.  Sigh.

But -- and I am going off what happened last night -- I have the money, and I have the time, and right now, I have a back-up car.  I don't know what's wrong with the minivan -- well, besides that it's old -- but I have the means and the money to fix whatever is wrong with it.  I will limp it down to The Mechanic Around The Corner, they'll screw me over, I'll pay because I can, and I'll be done with it.

I just have to find the time.  Maybe next week because I don't think mechanics are up to snuff leading up to Christmas.

Expenses Without Receipts

Starting from Monday, February 8:

• Actually I really need to start Friday the 5th, where I had the afternoon off and made it to Glam Doll to eat a Valentine's Day-themed donut.  Text written in icing: "Send Me Dog Pic."  With tip: $5.32.
• This time around I used a lot of cash because I bought a lot of lottery tickets because of the twin megajackpots in January.  Case in point: Friday, January 22, where, while I was waiting for The Mechanic Around The Corner to fix the faulty valve stem core in one of my tires, I decided I was going to get my sister the Mega Millions tickets she wanted.  And it was time I used the small winnings from one of her earlier tickets to defray the cost.  Now, I have blog posted about the ticket I bought here; I can't find it, and even though it's probably a loser, I'm scared that I somehow left the ticket at the counter and that mean, rude bitch who cashiered me didn't tell me and just kept it to herself, pocketing the hundreds of dollars that ticket might've won.  Hate her.  Anyway, the ticket cost me: $8.
• And I went to Glam Doll afterward.  Charged a donut and hot chocolate.  But I tipped in cash: $1.
• Later that evening Father paid me back for buying those tickets I got for him, an Infusion of: $14.
• On Thursday the 21st I anted up my contribution to a pool for the remaining humongous Mega Millions jackpot at work.  Did not know until these megajackpots that there was a pool at work.  Gave: $2.
• And after I got home Father again paid me back for all those times I got those lottery tickets for Mother and him, an Infusion of: $50.
• Tuesday the 19th: Work pool for the Mega Millions and Powerball jackpots: $4.
• Did the same Friday, January 15: $4.
• And once again, once I got home from work, Father paid me back for buying all those ... OK, I honestly don't know if this was the day when he paid me back for buying all those lottery tickets for them.  I just decided to write it for this day because I know I used cash to spend on another thing on this day.  It's an Infusion of $40.
• To Sunday the 10th ... after work I bought Subway to eat at work the next day.  Charged the submarine to my credit card, but used cash for tip ETA at 12:51 a.m. on February 11 that it turns out that I did not charge the sub, and that I in fact used cash to pay for the whole thing.  Since I apparently have a receipt for the submarine (I wrote it down in my day planner), this EWR reflects only the tip, for which there obviously is no receipt: $1.

Good through February 8.

Brain Fog, Maybe?

I have had headaches from time to time seemingly since the pandemic began.  It might be hypochondria, and it might not be causal, and I continue to test negative according to the antigen test (and one antibody test, even though I took that in the late summer), but I have had them.  I wouldn't consider them to be debilitating like migraines, but at their worst I can't remember having headaches like them.

On top of that I have not felt mentally sharp for the past year or so.  I totally attribute that to the pandemic and the ensuing lockdown.  I cannot do what I want in the evenings, so I'm resigned to lolling around at home, which makes me lazy and unfocused.  Also, I think exercise would do me world of good, for my mind as well as my body.

With so much time on my hands, ironically (maybe) I have let all my chores go without doing anything.  Letters keep piling up, unopened.  Father did laundry for me earlier in the week.  He even folded them.  But I haven't put them away yet.  And I still haven't found that damn lottery ticket I bought at The Mechanic Around The Corner for my sister.

At work, at the top of every hour, someone from my row of workers is supposed to check this form pinned to a clipboard.  We call this the "board."  These folders we check and clean are initialed once we are done with them, but as a final, final check, someone (and it rotates every day) is supposed to add up the number of folders that have been passed through for that just-completed hour (we use different-colored pens to track the folders every different hour) and (and not to get into the weeds with our work) check on our software that every single form in every single folder for that hour is complete.  It just so happens that this clipboard sits right next to me.  The person who "checks the board" should get up and get the clipboard shortly after the top of every hour.  But sometimes that person, who sits several seats down to the right of me, either loses track of time or is busy going through and "sanitizing" the folders.  So what I often do is get up, grab the board and lay it next to her.  It's an excuse to stretch.

Earlier this week, several minutes after the top of, I think, 10 in the morning, I got up and handed off the board.  And the person who was checking it that day said, "I already checked it!"  And then she said, "You already gave the board to me!"

"Really?" I replied.

"Yeah.  You gave it to me, like, a few minutes ago."

On the form there are lines to write down how many folders we finish each hour, and they're marked "6-7," 12-1," etc.  The line for "9-10" was filled; she already added up the number of folders done for the hour.  And yet I swear, I swear, that I looked at the clock, looked at that line, saw it was filled in, and thought to myself, "Oh!  The board for the past hour hasn't been checked yet!"  Worse than that, and worst of all?  I don't remember getting up to give her the board prior to this second time.  And I still don't recall giving her the board.

Foggy brain, man.  It's COVID, man, it's COVID. ...

No, No, Yay, No With The Mechanic Around The Corner

So I figured I should nip that thing with the bent valve stem core whatever sooner rather than later.  I had all of Friday off, and I had dreams of going to the Mall Of America and maybe buying some Doc Martens as an heir apparent to my diseased ones, but after thinking about when I could go out, it made too much sense to get this tire thing checked out Friday.  Any repair, however long, could get done that day, and however much of the rest of the day I would have, I would have that, and all the days after, free from the stress of wondering what's going on with that valve stem core thingy.

Thursday afternoon I made an appointment.  I went in.  And the first thing I noticed, while the service tech was dealing with an old guy who was borrowing the loaner of The Mechanic Around The Corner, is that no one was wearing a mask.  Not the service tech, not this old guy, not the cashier.  No one.  Fuck.  (This is the first "No" in the title of the blog post.)  I did not want to be confronted with ... such an issue.  I thought about backing out, but that would not have done me any good.  Nevertheless, the anxiety of being trapped with no one giving two shits about contracting the coronavirus "encouraged" me to wait outside.  Thank goodness the sun was shining, otherwise ten degrees would have felt exactly like ten degrees.  (Oh, I also thought about picking up Kentucky Fried Chicken, for which I had a coupon that expired that day, before going to the repair shop, but I thought I shouldn't be late.  Turns out that was the smart thing; I was going to eat it inside, but I sure as hell wasn't going to do that if a bunch of fucking anti-maskers.)

What was worse was that it took about an hour from the time I got to the shop before I could leave (second "No").  That wouldn't be a bad thing, except that this issue -- unless they, like, tore the entire valve off of the tire and I needed to get a new one -- should have taken only a half-hour.  I think the service tech said that they didn't have a bay open for a while because, I guess, they got backed up or something.

The good news was that as soon as a bay did get open and they drove my car in to look at the valve stem core thingamabobber, I think it took ten minutes for them to see that it was bent, to take out the valve stem core, and replace it with one that the tech said was bigger but would seal to ensure that the tire sensor would not be set off.  The tech threw it in the trash, but he fished it out for me to see that the notch indeed was bent, probably from the air hose I clamped on it on Monday.  Moreover, it was $15.  He said that if I went somewhere else, I'd be charged $100 for a brand new sensor.  I believe them.  They're anti-maskers, but I believe them.  (The "Yay.")

So I pay.  And I give the cashier a coupon I got, knocking off ten bucks for any repair.  But then she's all, "Nope!" and I go, what do you mean, and she (third "No") ... well, I don't know what she fuckin' said.  I think she just continued to say no.  And I had no idea what to do because she kind of had me over a barrel.  I mean, I couldn't just walk out without paying.  And so what if it's only fifteen bucks?  These fucking people send me coupons all the time, and now that I want to use one, I can't use it?  Then don't fucking send me your junk mail anymore!  And I checked the coupon Friday night in case there was a reason I couldn't use it, but there wasn't.  Should've paid only five bucks for that, goddammit. ...

Oh -- while I was waiting, I bought MegaMillions tickets for my sister, and I used the winnings from a previous MegaMillions drawing I bought for her to defray the cost of this one.  And I swear to fucking God, I can't find it.  I don't know where the hell it is.  And now I figure that this cashier is a bitch who secretly thinks she's better than me because I was wearing a mask and she wasn't.  And so I think I left the tickets I bought on the counter, and she didn't bother even telling me that I forgot.  That's how much she loathes me.  Isn't it obvious?

I thought about going on Yelp to complain about all I encountered and saw at The Mechanic Around The Corner.  I might wait to make sure they don't know it's me.  But I'm still thinking about it.  And in the meantime I'll need to get tested once again.  And I'll need to find this goddamn lottery ticket.

Yesterday Was ... Eventful

So, yesterday I talked about going to Centro for lunch before going to work yesterday?  Yeah, funny story. ...

The way I went to Centro on Friday was across these train tracks that are very rough and potholey.  There were certainly other ways to get there, but I thought just being a little more careful and slower through the tracks would help with the otherwise rough, scary ride across them on Friday.

Unfortunately, while I was crossing them (and there are two of them, one going each way) I heard the bell.  (In retrospect, while there for about 75 Minutes Friday the train went by several times.)  I panicked.  And so I gunned it across the tracks, hoping nothing would happen to my car.  The ride through was (deep breath) damaging to my car.  And something really bad happened to it.  I parallel parked, then jumped out to make sure my tires weren't flat.  I heard a loud hiss, though.  And after trying to see the bottoms of the two passenger-side tires that were in inches of water because of the storm that passed through the area overnight, I saw the bottom of my driver's-side front tire virtually flat.  Well, guess I wasn't going to eat at Centro after all.

Thankfully this happened two hours before I had to go to work.  So I had time to change the tire and go to The Mechanic Around The Corner ... but they couldn't change it because, even though they say the service department is open on Saturdays, the cashier said everyone else was sent home.  Great.

I went back from where I came to Bobby & Steve's.  They couldn't get me in before I had to go to work because there were people waiting in front of me.  Instead of gambling on getting it done before going in to work, I calmed myself down, told myself I put in the spare tire correctly, and I can get to work using side roads and, if need be, making sure I'm driving (well) over 50 miles per hour.  So, I went to work.  Hell, I had enough time (I left Bobby & Steve's a bit past 1) to eat at McDonald's and rest my eyes for 10 Minutes in my car after I parked at work.

Went in at 2, got done around 6.  Thank goodness people have better things to do than on a Saturday than get their car fixed, because this time around I immediately got serviced ... except that they could not patch the tire.  I had to get a new one.  (I swear I saw a nail puncture and hole in a tread on my tire.  The mechanic who gave me back my car said that the break came on the side, right next to the rim.)  And on top of that, they didn't have a tire my size.  Got my car back, no charge.

This guy said Discount Tire would have one.  Discount Tire is closed at 6:30 on Saturdays.  Still wanted this done today, so the guy called up the Bobby & Steve's in downtown where, thank Buddha, they did have one (and only one) tire my size.  Drove down there.  From the time I entered the store to the time I left with my brand-new tire: Half an hour.  And I checked -- the new tire is the same exact brand and model as my other three.

My initial plan after work was to go visit my game-watching party bar, which was also downtown.  Ate outside, chatted it up with the co-owner.  Wanted to get home by 9 to catch the beginning of the back end of the Liga MX doubleheader, but I was getting home a little after that, and besides, "Rusty Cage" was on The Current, so I had to stay in my car and listen to that.

Could have been worse.  Didn't want to spend $150 on the tire, but given that the first Bobby & Steve's place said I could go to Discount Tire -- where it would probably be cheaper -- I don't think they were ripping me off.  (Plus, they didn't charge me to diagnose the source of the break on my tire.)  I did get my tire fixed the day it broke.  Got to work on-time, and went to eat at my (ex-)alumni club's place.  Best of all, it took me only half an hour to change my tire.  I may have peeked in my trunk to see the spare once, maybe twice, and I had no idea how to assemble the jack.  But I followed the owner's manual and, with dirty pants and disposable gloves (given to me just the day before by the stripper girlfriend who cut my hair), I got the spare on all by myself.  Yes, I felt like a man.  Still do, actually.  And moreover, honestly, it feels good that I was able to figure something out and not be in need of someone, whether it be a tow truck or anyone who just walked or drove by who could say, "Hey, you need help with that?"  (By the way, even though the area I was in was semi-busy, no one stopped to ask if they could help.  Huh.)

As for Centro ... got a ticket the first time I went there, got a flat the second time I went there.  Maybe this is a sign I should, like, stay away from the place.  Might go there in a couple weeks.  And I will take a different route besides across the fucking train tracks.  Actually, when I was driving close to Centro, I knew the general direction it was as I was crossing cross streets, and I remember thinking, "Hmmm ... wouldn't one of these streets get me to Centro so I wouldn't have to cross those goddamn train tracks?"  Should've listened to myself when I told myself that.  Would've been closer, too.

Everything's right with the world now, albeit a bit lighter in the checking account.  The only mortal fear I have is that driving so hard and fast on extremely bumpy train tracks fucked up my suspension and alignment.  My car seems to be driving OK on my way home from yesterday's adventure, and I hope it stays that way so I can forget how anxious and paranoid I am about that right now.

THE HONDA GIFT CARD IS IN THE DESK!

OK, so about 11 Months ago my starter on my supposedly new-ish car broke.  I've blog posted about this disaster before, but I'll rehash it here.  It had been on the fritz for the past several months, but I would be able to start my car after pushing the ignition button a second time.  But then it became three.  Then it wouldn't start at the gas station.  And then it went kaput for good at work the night Minnesota United FC beat Sporting Kansas City and secured its first-ever Major League Soccer playoff birth.  (Instead of getting a tow truck right after work, I downloaded Lyft and used a car-sharing service for the first and, so far, only time in my life to get to Allianz Field.  A friend from my ushering days drove me back to work, and that's when I called for the tow truck.  Had it dropped off at The Mechanic Around The Corner.  In the morning, I walked there without My Father noticing my car was gone.)

Got it fixed from The Mechanic Around The Corner.  Still, I was pissed.  A starter does not go out on a five-year-old car, and especially a Honda, even if my warranty ran out.  I both asked the dealership for a break and called Honda American Corporate for relief when I brought my car to the dealership after the incident at the gas station, which was only a few days before the starter went kaput for good.  Both entities said no.

That still wasn't good enough.  I got it fixed, but I eventually (and I think this was in the late winter or early spring -- these days, time both stretches and shrinks) decided I was going to raise a little hell over this.  First I tweeted to Honda American.  Then I sent a letter to them.  And wouldn't you know, I got a call back.  Someone from Honda American wanted to investigate.  I gave her all the information I could about the steps I took to ask for financial defraying on getting a new starter.  After playing phone tag for a bit (and I think this was in March, just as the pandemic convinced the country to shut down and send workers home to work), she offered a gift card in the amount of $350.  Maybe I should have bargained.  But I guess I was so flattered Honda American did something about my complaint that I was going to take the first thing dangled in front of me.  So I said yes.

The gift card came in the form of, uh, an actual gift card, slotted in a card the size of a, uh, greeting card, in an envelope the size of a, uh, greeting card.  I have to activate it, and I have only till 2022, I think, to use it.  My timing chain will need to be replaced in the next 24 Months or so, I think -- that gift card will be given to the dealership to defray the cost of fixing that.  Anyway, the important thing is I have it, and so it was in safe keeping.

Until I realized that I didn't know exactly where the hell it was.  When I opened it for the first time and looked at it, I stroked my ego for a bit.  I mean, I didn't think writing to customer service would work.  I've done it before and was successful before, but shoot, this is the first time I got a $350 gift card.  That's frickin' golden!  So I felt a well of self-satisfaction, and then I threw the gift card onto the stack of mail I just keep once I opened them up.

And then I couldn't find it.  I guess it didn't matter since I don't plan on using it for, probably, two more Years.  But that is essentially $350 in cash, and I shouldn't lose it.  And so a couple times in the Months since I got it, including a sizable freak-out a few days ago, I felt the urge to find it, just so I know where exactly it is.  At some point my mood was, "Well, I don't know where exactly it is, but I know it's in my bedroom, so where else could it be?"  But in those couple times, that wasn't good enough.

The first time I freaked out over it, I had to give up because I simply couldn't find it.  This time around, and this was Wednesday night, I went over to my desk, where I stash all the "important" mail that I don't want "lost" even though I don't exactly know what's in there.  But, by golly, that's where I found the gift card.  Apparently when I got it in the mail, I at least thought about it enough to put it somewhere special.  Too bad I forgot that the desk was that special place.

So maybe where I put it now will be, like, the real exact place where it's going to be safe and special.  All car owners are told to keep all the receipts from repairs somewhere.  Well, I have put mine in my desk -- namely the long, flat drawer under which you put your legs, you know?  I have put all my receipts stretching back to my old car in there.  I have yet to throw any of them away.  And since my gift card is a car thing, well, it makes sense for me to stash it in with my receipts.

So there it is, and there it will stay until I need to use it.  And just in case, I am going to note here, for the record, that that is where I put it; that's why I put the title in all caps.  But doing so doesn't ensure that I'll remember to even look at my blog in order to remember where the gift card is.  For that -- well, I guess I'll have to just rely on faith.

Expenses Without Receipt

Oh, fuck me.  Starting from Wednesday, October 30:

• The only EWR I had for this date was for My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Version).  I was summoned there by Giselle because she was celebrating her birthday while working there.  So I had to get a dance from her (even though it was a short one, even though the song she danced to was "Don't Fear The Reaper"), and just because I wanted to be festive, I got dances from two other strippers there, Lotus and Willow.  (There was a fourth, ***i*, I was going to get a lapper from, but she was occupied when I was free and vice versa, so I decided I'll check her later.)  With stage tips for all four and coffee (with tip) I spent a grand total of: $72.25.
• Sunday, October 27 -- I took out $200 for the party the night before thinking I was going to fuck someone, but ... well, I'll tell it next bullet point.  I had a lot of money burning in my pocket, and I thought I could spent lavishly at My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Division) after the Timberwolves Game.  So I did; I got one lap dance each from Ashlee, Anastasia, and Harley.  Loved all three.  With coffee, and tip for said coffee and the strippers stage-side, I spent a total of: $70.
• Saturday, October 26 ... the day before I was invited to a house party at the apartment of *****e*.  I went thinking I was going to fuck; I even brought the condom I got at a men's room in a building at the University of Colorado when I vacationed in Denver.  But I was thinking about it more and more as I was going to go to the party.  The host, *****e*, I fucked about a month ago and didn't need to fuck again.  There was another girl, ****y, I thought I was going to fuck, but she annoyed the fuck out of me the minute I stepped through the door, so fuck her.  The other two I didn't know, so I couldn't go balls deep in either of them.  So, with that annoying twat gone, I just got lappers from the other three, and that suits me fine.  With cover, I spent just: $80.
• Back to Tuesday the 22nd -- well, I didn't spend anything on the 22nd, so we'll go back to the 21st.  I had to go to the library to print out a dental form which I need to fax to my health insurance company to get my dental bill paid.  (I initially just faxed the bill, which I was led to believe was enough, but alas, I guess.)  That cost me: 10 cents.
• I am way, way behind in writing down my receipts (as you can tell by me trying to catch up on two months' worth of EWRs), so I went to Caffetto to do the first step, which is putting the receipts I do have in order.  I ate a pumpkin pie and drank a small hot chocolate (and dinked around on the Internet) while putting my receipts in order.  With tip: $7.48.
• Sunday, October 20 -- went to the MNUFC's first-ever playoff match in MLS at Allianz Field ... and in typical Minnesotan fashion, they lost.  Apt that I got a hot dog and a Loon Juice for the final game of the season.  It's what I usually get for games, so I have a sense of things coming full circle.  Total: $17.
• On Saturday the 19th I took off of work early to help with a volunteer event for my alma mater.  It was downtown, but the organizer was able to finagle vouchers for a valet.  Valets are cool, and if I'm ever rich as fuck, I'll do it more often.  The downside to doing it -- well, it's not a downside, but this is partly why I usually seek out free parking -- is that I need to tip the valet.  With complimentary valet, tipping isn't an issue.  I just hope I tipped enough: $5.
• Back to Friday, October 18, where I used the second of the four Gophers tickets I bought at the State Fair.  It was for the men's hockey team's home opener versus Niagara, and I almost forgot that I had a ticket for this game on this date.  Mariucci Arena has beefed up its concessions; moreso than just hot dogs and pop, Mayslack's is there, as well as a concession stand converted to serve tacos.  I got a trio of beef tacos there.  With a medium Coke -- oh, the U. does not give out small Cokes anymore, which is strange -- and a program the game/win set me back: $18.
• ETA on November 7 at 8:55 p.m. an EWR Sunday, October 13 ... I don't have any spending listed but I must have done one, because the only cash transaction I had listed was me taking money out of my checking account, and that can't be possible because 1) I usually can't have just one transaction, especially if that transaction is getting money, and 2) this is Sunday and I was working the Vikings Game, and I know that I went to My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Division) after work.  I also know that I got a lap dance from someone I had never seen before.  She had big tits and said that she wanted to open a stripper clothing store.  I think, though I'm not entirely sure, that I got another lapper.  And I assume I got coffee this trip (and, of course, I tip everything when I'm there).  I am pulling this totally out of thin air, but I am going to say that I went to this titty bar on this date and spent: $52.25.
• OK, assuming I did this right, my next EWR is Thursday, October 10.  It was a party, the first in a long time for me.  It was being hosted by *****y, even though it was at the house of a guy/strippermonger from My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Edition).  The host, *****y, finally gave me a handjob.  There were three other babes there, and I got $20 dances from -- and groped -- all of them.  What a great fuckin' party!  With cover, I left after spending: $220.
• Back to Monday, October 7, the last day of my stay in Denver.  It began with me leaving my sweet but remote hotel room, and leaving a little tip for housekeeping's troubles: $2.
• I then decided I was going to spend most of my afternoon walking around downtown Denver.  My main goal was to hit up the Hard Rock Cafe, but I stayed there so long I only made an abbreviated visit to the Colorado State Capitol.  Anyway, I learned that there is a cheap-ish lot to park, about a mile away from where those two spots were.  And I paid only: $6.
• I then went to a stripclub in the evening, on my way to DEN.  Unlike my two previous visits this vacation, I got royally fucked over by getting stiffed one dance from this fucking ripoff bitch.  It's so bad that not only will I not go to this club ever again, I don't think I can go to Denver for a long, long time either.  Maybe I'm overreacting, but that's how I feel.  So taken from my money, even if I did get a pass to get in for free: Tips and two, not three dances: $133.
• There was a possibility that I would eat at this recommended restaurant at the airport, but I got there too late.  But I was more than on-time to board my flight.  What to do?  Well, Caribou has made it to Denver, and I sign up for its coupons, and I hadn't had a Caribou in quite a while.  So even though it technically should have shut its door, I find a Caribou open somewhere in the terminal that would redeem my points.  Unfortunately I didn't get the whip cream on the mocha I got for free, even though I was asked and I answered.  This EWR is tip only: $2.
• Back to Saturday, October 5 -- this was the day I left my first hotel, and I left a tip for housekeeping there: $3.
• Hmmm ... went to the original site of Qdoba, then hiked at Red Rocks.  Went to my new hotel, then got back to downtown in the hopes of finding a ticket to the Bastard Quebec Noridques Game vs. my Minnesota Wild.  There were no scalpers I could find.  There were tickets available at the box office, but the cheapest tickets were $90.  No.  I paid at a lot downtown to take a chance at going to the hockey game, but at least I found one that, similar to the one I parked at two days later, was maybe the cheapest one downtown: $6.
• However I didn't want to just leave without accomplishing any vacation-y thing downtown.  Sure, I went up and down 16th Street Mall (and by the way, there were a hell of a lot of homeless people asking for money; it kind of creeped me out), but I still had my whole night ahead of me.  That's when I realized that I had not checked off one thing I wanted to do while in the city: Go to one of Denver's craft brewpubs.  So I went to not one, but two, both of which were within walking distance from the parking lot.  The gray lady of downtown breweries, it looks like, is Great Divide.  Had a great Hazy IPA and sat by myself and had a great time.  With tip: $7.
• It appears as though that microbreweries and food trucks now have a built-in co-dependent business relationship.  The truck outside Great Divide was called Spice Food.  Had a buffalo pub chicken sandwich, and it was on the spicy side.  There is tax on Denver food truck food.  With tip: $12.88.
• The night was still relatively young, and I thought I could walk off the alcohol I had.  So I went to another recommended brewery, Our Mutual Friend.  Walked a mile north and hit several more homeless people, which again freaked me out.  The customer service at OMF was worse than at Great Divide.  OMF had more of a frat house vibe, and that vibe should never emanate from a microbrewery.  Good Small Hold, though.  With tip: $5.25.
• Friday the 4th: Went to this stripclub in the evening because I had only been there during the afternoon/evening.  Much better times, I'll admit.  Place still didn't have waitresses taking orders for (non-alcoholic) drinks, which bothered me at times and didn't at others.  So I went to the bar in the back to get a Heinken 0.0, partly for the drink and partly because I needed more dollar bills.  Had a bathroom attendant there; threw in tips because he gave me towels, but when I wanted some Lunchables, he told me it was three bucks.  What the fuck were the tips for?  Anyway, I had $100 dances with Roxy and Rain, both of whom were great.  With cover and tips on a wild, busy night, the total was: $284.
• Oh, I think I found a heads-up penny at the club.  And Infusion of: 1 cent.
• On Thursday the 3rd I went to one of the things I really, really wanted to do while in Denver: Attend a Colorado women's soccer match.  I have no affinity for Colorado women's soccer.  But I wanted to see college sports from colleges other than my own.  The drive from Denver to Boulder is long, but the scenery, especially in the autumn, is beautiful.  Anyway, the Buffaloes led 2-0 but allowed Oregon to come back to eventually end the Game in a 2-all draw.  Ticket, hot dog, and a can of Left Hand Colorful Colorado: $23.
• Wednesday, October 2 was my first day in Denver.  I got there very early in the morning and, not having a hotel to crash in, I had no other choice but to hit the ground running.  There is a regional fast food chain called Santiago's that serves, according to some, the best of a Denver food staple, green chile sauce.  As was a main goal on this trip with Qdoba and Smashburger, I went to the origin store of Santiago's ... except that I was wrong.  I had a breakfast burrito at a small, drive-thru-only Santiago's which I thought was the first-ever.  But when I asked the woman at the drive-thru, she believed it was the other one, close by, on the same street.  That actually was a sit-down restaurant; they boxed up the breakfast burrito I ordered there, and I ate in the backseat of my rental car.  Anyway, I charged the second burrito at the true original store, but for the first burrito at the drive-thru I paid: $2.77.
• After the two Santiago's I went downtown to get my Docs re-stitched.  As I was cooling my heels for a several hours, I decided to dink around Union Station.  It is a beautiful edifice, and it successfully marries its purpose as a hub of transportation (being the terminus for Denver's light and passenger rail lines, as well as a stop for Amtrak) and also being a retail and hotel destination.  For the latter, I walked around its inside lobby.  There were shops and an entrance to the hotel.  I went to a place called Milkbox and got ice cream from a local creamery.  Very nice.  With tip it cost me: $5.
• Oh yes, my Docs.  The place was called the Cobbler's Corner, and it came recommended through, uh, Yelp.  They initially told me it would be ready by Monday.  I asked for ASAP instead and they told me it was going to be $30.  That was totally cool with me.  (Aside: It is kind of weird that for this kind of "chore," I have time to get it done while I'm on vacation, but I have no time while I am just living at home.)  I got it back, saw they shined it, and tipped them an extra $20.  Is that overkill, especially since the hikes I took in the days after dusted up my shoes and probably also wreaked damage on the stitches?  Total: $50.
• Then, at night, I went to the strip club I went to when I went to Denver last year.  I was going there to see Emerald, who is a model and sexy as hell.  I didn't see her that day because she wasn't working that day.  But I did see Indra, who told me that Emerald wasn't working that day.  So I took her to the back for a 3/$100.  Indra asked for a tip.  I gave it because my fly was open and she probably saw my cock.  With cover and tips: $152.
• OK, now we're going back to Saturday, September 28.  I went to a party hosted by *****e*, even though it wasn't her party; it was *****a's.  Wanted to fuck both, but I could only fuck one, and that was the one who invited me.  That was the only "dance" I got.  With cover: $140.
• Then went to Glam Doll.  Charged the first donut, coffee and tip, so the EWR is for the second donut and tip: $5.
• Friday the 27th I think I was using the loaner car from The Mechanic Around The Corner, and I think I wanted to treat myself by getting something at Caribou instead of using the work coffee machine (which, don't get me wrong, is pretty good).  Mocha plus tip: $6.09.
• That evening, after I got back my car (with new starter), I went to the University of Minnesota women's soccer Match vs. Penn St.  It was the first of four tickets to U. Games that I bought at the Minnesota State Fair.  This Game went into Overtime where, unfortunately, the Nittany Lions scored the Game-winning (and only) Goal.  This was my first U. Game of the new school year, and apparently the concession stands system-wide have eliminated small pop from the menu.  Medium Cokes are the smallest Cokes you can purchase now.  But karma made things up by giving me too much change back for that Coke and a hot dog.  With program: $11.25.
• Afterward I went to My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Version).  Gave Sky two tips onstage because on that evening she would not dance for two bucks.  Whatever.  Got a lapper from Jade, and she ain't a bitch.  With coffee and tips the total came out to: $32.25.
• To Sunday, September 22: I took the LRT because I was working the Vikings Game but I wanted to park at a meter because I was afraid the car would not start and I would have to ask AAA to get into a parking ramp to tow me away.  Price is for getting around downtown only: $1.
• On Saturday the 21st I went to My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Edition).  Coffee, tips, LD with Giselle, whom I hadn't seen in a long, long time: $30.25.
• And that evening I think I stored a wheat penny: 1 cent.
• Back to Saturday the 14th ... and oh, OK, reading my notes, this was weird.  I hosted our alma mater's Game-watching event.  One of the guys, a good guy (I went out to the Timberwolves Game with him) left and forgot to pay his meal.  So I covered it for him and he paid me back through PayPal.  In the meantime, another of the regulars at these parties gave me some money to defray the cost of his meal.  So, it's an Infusion of: $10.
• I was conducting a raffle during the Game.  Meanwhile, there was a bar crawl going on, and it was raising money for cancer charities.  My friend (the guy who later accidentally skipped out on his tab) encouraged me to go around and ask the crawlers if they wanted to play the raffle.  We actually got a few people.  Meanwhile, I wanted to be magnanimous and return the favor by giving money to the charity.  I don't know if that was the smartest thing to do.  I was sort of robbing Peter to pay Paul, you know?  Anyway, I donated: $5.
• Friday, September 13 ... went to Glam Doll to breathe.  With tip: $13.88.
• On Thursday the 12th I went to Caffetto, probably to work on my receipts.  Pumpkin pie and small coffee, then I decided I wanted something else to drink, so I got a Red Arrow root beer.  With tip: $9.92.
• Back to Monday the 9th, when I fucked *a***.  God, I need to fuck her again: $120.
• I think -- I think -- I later went to the library to print out a coupon to use at the dealership for the myriad of maintenance items I needed for my car.  Was later told at the dealership I couldn't use it.  Damn.  Cost: 10 cents.
• On Sunday, September 8 I was working the Vikings' season-opener.  Used the LRT to get to the stadium: 50 cents.
• I then walked back because I wanted to go to a block party hosted by Borough.  Had a street taco and a Gin Mule.  With tips the total was: $17.
• After that I caught up with a friend who was in town from New York, who wanted someone to help her with trivia at a brewery in south Minneapolis.  I used the LRT to get down there and back, for a total of: $4.
• At the brewery, called Venn, I got a Northodox, an IPA (?) which was real nice.  During break from trivia I also ventured out to get a chicken with rice at the food truck.  With tips for both I spent: $18.
• And then I finished my night at a night at My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Division), where I got a lap dance from the hot MILF Julie.  With coffee and tips: $32.

Holy shit, that took a long time.  I need to do this more often.  But I've said that, often.

Good through October 30.

Holy Shit -- I PULLED IT OFF???

OK, so here's what happened Thursday morning with my car in the shop.

Woke up to the sound of Father rooting around in the kitchen.  Thought I was fucked.

He was surprised to see me up so early.  Obviously, he didn't know that was because I needed to walk to The Mechanic Around The Corner to drive the loaner car.  But I have odd hours at this job, so I don't think that was too much of a problem for him.

My biggest concern was that, when I left the house, I would, of course, just walk down the driveway and out onto the street.  There would be no sound of firing up the car.  Once -- or if -- that doesn't happen, I would assume Father would either bolt to the window to see what the hell is going on with the silence, or he would figure out what's going on and interrogate me once I came home.  Either way, I would have just come clean.  Especially in the latter case, when, well, it was too late to do anything about it.

So I started walking, and down the driveway and street I went.  I didn't hear any shouting from Father behind me.  He was watching TV, so maybe he was so distracted by that (or his hearing is going) that he didn't notice he didn't hear something he was supposed to hear.  And Mother was sleeping at that time of morning.  I took one glance behind me to make sure he wasn't at the window.  It appears he wasn't, so under cover of night ... I started running down the street, as if that would have made a difference.

Came back with the car in the afternoon.  They didn't say anything.  And Father hasn't brought up the car, at least not yet.

Seriously, did he not notice?

Seriously, did I pull it off?

And, It Went To Shit

So this is what happened:

• I finally checked my voicemail.  It was from the dealership; the guy finally got back to me.  And he said his field rep won't give me a discount.  I thank him in a return voicemail ... and I intend on raising some sort of holy hell over this.
• Got another voicemail shortly after work.  It was from The Mechanic Around The Corner.  They found a starter for a lot less than $600.  I say let's do it, and let's do it for Thursday/today.
• I turn the car on so I can mosey on down to St. Paul and the United Match.  It doesn't turn over.
• Tried it a few more times.  Shit.  I'm fucked.  And of course this would happen the day before I was going to drive it in.
• Downloaded Lyft.  I had sworn to never use ride-sharing, but it was either fight the traffic, wait for a tow, then get yelled at by my parents, or trying like fucking crazy to hide that I'm taking my car into the shop.  But, I need the cover of night to do that, and besides, the Loons could clinch a first-ever Major League Soccer playoff spot with a win.  Why not go?  So I used a Lyft.  The guy was fine, even though I don't feel the win to use a rideshare again.  (Got a friend to take me back to work.  Oh, and MNUFC did win, hooray!)
• Tried my car, hoping that the advent of night would cool the starter.  No dice; it's shot to shit.  I thank my friend and call the tow.
• Truck comes in less than half an hour.  If I did this around 5, it'd take two.  Guy's a Trump supporter, but I like him.  Besides, he was my ride; I know better than to get too in-depth with politics with someone I need.
• Tow truck guy dropped me off three blocks from home.  Walked up because my parents would get suspicious of a loud vehicle coming up and then backing down the driveway.  I don't think they suspect yet, but Father's up.  I think.

My plan is to wake up early tomorrow, hope my folks are still asleep, then quietly slip out of the house, walk down the driveway and get to The Mechanic Around The Corner on foot without them noticing.  If they do -- or if Father is awake when I wake up, which is likely to happen -- I'll tell the truth: My car won't start, and I took it to my auto repair place because fuck you, I want to do this my way, you'll just yell at me if I ask you for help, fuck you.

But damn, if I can just leave with them noticing, and my car needs just today to get it all fixed, and I can come home like nothing weird happened ... well, that's, like, my fantasy.

Don't Know If I'm Pulling This Repair Timeline Off Correctly

Just realized that by waiting a day, to see if the dealership would actually help me, I've given myself one fewer day in which I could get my car fixed.  Today/Wednesday is now out.  I could have done it, although it would have been a tight fit because I'm going to the United Match.  But it's at least plausible that I could have gone to The Mechanic Around The Corner today; I could have dropped it off and have them fix it by the time I was done with work, swing by, switch cars, then go back out.

But I did not make an appointment for today.  Instead I waited to see, once again, if the dealership would cut me a break -- and, also, if The Mechanic Around The Corner could get a loaner car so I could, ostensibly, use it to get to and from work.  So now, I realized yesterday/Tuesday, it would basically have to be tomorrow/Thursday.  Friday I have to come in early, and even though I'll be able to leave early, I don't think either shop has extended hours on Fridays.  Saturdays are out (I believe), Sundays even moreso.  I could do it Monday, but this brings up another troubling point: I have half a tank of gas left, and I don't know if I can survive through the weekend.  And if I don't, I'll have to recreate what happened last Monday, where I stopped my car, filled up my tank, and couldn't start my car for half an hour because apparently my starter got heat soaked.

And on top of all that, I leave for Denver next week.  Guess I could do it Tuesday, but there's usually overtime offered, and I could use all the money I could get.

Man, I don't know what I should do. ...

Being indecisive has been one of the hallmarks of my life.

So, About This "Heat Soak" Thing ...

I'm doing more research on the Internet, which is, as we all know, an infallible resource.  And once I Googled my car's specific symptom, that my car won't re-start after I shut it off a short time ago, I saw this new concept I had never heard of: "Heat soak."  There is so much heat that the starter experiences enough resistance to the point that it cuts down the flow of current and it just won't start.  Hmmm.

This particular website brings up solutions other than the starter: Either put on a heat shield, check the battery cables, or replace the battery with one with higher capacity.  So, it ... may not be the starter?

Meanwhile I haven't heard anything from the dealership.  Maybe I'm getting overanxious, but I don't think I need to wait this long for an answer.  And you know, I went back through the previous receipts when I brought in my old car to The Mechanic Around The Corner, and they weren't bad.  They can diagnose and replace just like the dealership, and they can do it with slightly better customer service, too.  Maybe I should take this problem independent after all. ...