It’s those little things that get to me. My watch, which is STILL off a day. Fixing it after this, I suppose. My clock on my desk is fast seven minutes. I’m way too used to it to change it now. My stupid belt is ripping apart (thus making it stupid.)
Tuesday it was absolutely fantastic outside. Rolled down my windows and turned up the music while driving. But hey, don’t try to roll the damn thing up because THE HANDLE WILL SNAP OFF. Yes, the metal knob to raise my window has snapped in half. Metal. Great. So, in my semi-rolled-up-semi-not window, I’m cruising home on Thursday and the whole gearshift pulls out of the shaft and will not go back on. So, while fighting it while going 75 on the loop because my floormat is jammed on the gas, I have to down shift coming off. But oh no, downshifting is now impossible.
After driving the rest of the way home by slamming my hand really hard into the metal pole sticking out of an omnious black pit, I finally come to a stop sign where I can rest and try to figure things out. So, while I’m cursing loudly and screaming, “GOD DAMMIT, SHELA WHY DO YOU HAVE TO DO THIS TO ME YOU DIRTY BITCH!?”, my semi-rolled-up-semi-not window does nothing to shield the ears of the couple and their little kid out for a nice evening stroll. I felt kind of dirty.
But eh, life is good. I love Shela. But I like Sally even more.