Late last Sunday we decided to go to the thrift shop and look around. Within 5 minutes I’d spied a sweet looking cabinet. My husband & I liked it – but no price tag. I summoned the guy from the back, who came out & marked it $7.99.
I like to think of myself as a Renaissance woman. I know how to make doughnuts, I can install drywall, je parle un petit peu du francais. But there are a few things in life that leave me stumped. How to knit, for instance. How to dive without belly-flopping. And CARS. I know how to drive. I can parallel park, I know where the gas goes. I can check my oil and if truly hard-pressed I might be able to change a tire. But when it comes to the inner workings of an automobile, forget it.
It doesn’t help that cars nowadays are computers. I can’t fix my computer either, but I married an IT guy who sure can. My husband also can build and fix cars — but of the VW 70s variety, not these newfangled shiny whatsits you have to hook up to electronics to diagnose. Don’t get me wrong, my husband can fix A LOT of what goes wrong with our vehicles. But I think we’ve reached a point with Lil Blackie where professional resuscitation is in order.
Yeah yeah, I know I’m overdue for my weekly post. SO be it. It’s not like I’m sitting around on my duff (though I certainly am at this moment and BOY does it feel good). Listen, it’s hard finding time to write here when I spend most of the day in the kitchen and the rest wrestling crap out of the dog’s mouth.
So before Wipeout is over (I still have 17 mins) instead of some inspired something, or a blog post about the house, I am here to treat you with this:
