Monday, December 19, 2005

My car is bleeding to death



and it's never washed and was "born in" 1991 and is obviously something I do not love, ever.

I feel guilty in a personally-responsible way for wasting all this oil, slowly leeching it to the storm sewers. But, if I get a new car, someone will still use this old one and likely won't be paying $1,000s to seal up all the creaky leaks.

The leaks will go on.

A Toyota Camry (made with U.S. steel, I tell you what) is a quite durable machine that holds up to much abuse, though. Of course, it doesn't accelerate much faster than the average milk-cow, but point-A, point-B, no incident is my very low expectation and is continually fulfilled.

Four days (Sunday was proper and holy, no need for "St. Monday" today) of "holiday parties" has left me flakey in so many ways. Unlike canned biscuits, I do not work well dried out and with my layers falling apart.

We were around a sick baby, too. I can feel the throat issues now. Please, be mere flakiness and not anything that will add to the "must wrap, must find recipes/mix/chop/blend//////, must pack, must travel, must revel, must travel, must unpack, must go to work" funandstress which is ahead.

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