theology&geometry

• Woke up before my alarm went off at 6:30. No snooze buttons were harmed.

• Went to the Campbell Clinic way out east to get pictures taken of my bones and let a resident feel me up (just my arm!). The doctor told me these elbow shenanigans amount to classic bursitis, which is a pointless and insulting affliction, in my estimation. That’s right, America, I got injured FROM SITTING ON MY ASS AND LEANING ON MY ELBOW A BIT AWKWARDLY FROM TIME TO TIME. The doc hooked me up with the sweet little elbow maxi-pad-in-a-tube-sock you see up there and a prescription for some anti-inflammatory medicine and told me to lay off the elbow checks. Just kidding, he totally didn’t say that, so watch your tone with me, mister.

• I drove out to Bartlett to catsit Stinky and Sammy, who, for the first time ever, were actually more than marginally interested in my existence.

• Drove back in to Midtown to pick up my (mercifully generic) pills.

• Drove back toward the U of M to make it EARLY to my tire rotation/oil change appointment at Firestone. Decided that sitting in their waiting room might not be the best use of my time, so I left my car with them and darted across traffic to the Fantastic Sams, and was delighted to find myself their only customer. Snip snip. $20 later, I feel much much much lighter and less Pentecostal. Sadly, they only took off six inches and apparently you need ten to donate to Locks of Love.

• Hopped across traffic in another direction and hoofed it to my gym. Former gym. Where I was told that in order to reinstate my membership (which expired in May 2009), I’d have to pay $205 to get me back on track, and then another $130something to renew from May 2010 until May 2016 or something. Unable to wrap my mind around that horse shit (are all gym memberships this borderline criminal? there are only four ways out of this one: Moving to an area not anywhere near this chain, paying off the $700 two-year balance, terminal illness with doctor’s note, or death), I had them sign me up for a new membership. Because my ass? Has gotten way out of hand. They were all butthurt (god, I hate that word but I need it in this instance) when I balked at scheduling a time for my complimentary fitness assessment. It’s just that I know better than to try to get motivated by having some muscle-bound dude watch me huff and pant on a treadmill, and then tell me that I just need to spend more time on the treadmill. I’ve got it, dudes. I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again, and then I’ll get fat again, and come pay you even more money to re-re-join!

• Hopped back across traffic to pick up my car. Which wasn’t ready. So I sat in the waiting area. At some point, some dude came out to tell me all the shit supposedly wrong with my car, including something about a PCV valve and my alignment being borked. Which is insane, since Sig’s minions fixed up my alignment, like, a month ago. And I haven’t hit a single moose since then. Not a single one! So I don’t know. I told them no thanks and then sat there for another damn half hour so they could wrap things up and come get me to check out. I got sucked into Jerry Springer for a while. Then, while getting a cup of coffee, I noticed that my car was outside, ready. No idea how long it had been there. I stood and waited for a desk dude to help me, at which point he realized who I was and called me before I could be all “WHAT THE HELL, DUDE, IT’S 12:30 AND I BROUGHT THIS SHIT IN AT 10:45!” I noticed that my janky-ass hubcaps seemed to be in the same position I had left them, and I asked how they had rotated my tires — diagonally or front to back. Front to back, I was told. I paid up and went outside and I began to continue to kind of be suspicious, because the tires didn’t appear to have been moved; the front passenger side was hubcapless and looked low. Just like I’d left it. I went back inside and told the guy that, and said, “Are you sure they rotated them?” He was annoyed, of course, because I am a stupid girl with an AWESOME haircut, and went to ask the mechanics. There was some confusion, with one mechanic even accidentally being all “well maybe not” before another one jumped in and was all “I helped him do it!” I don’t know. They told me they moved the hubcaps so they would be in the positions they were before. I wish I’d marked a tire with a grease pen or something so I’d know for sure. The only way I’ll be able to tell is if my right front tire shows a slow leak. That tire (which, incidentally, that same shop was supposed to have patched several weeks ago, but it still leaks) should be the back passenger side now. We shall see. Oh, we shall see. God, I hate getting my car serviced. Hate hate hate.

So, that’s it, really. I’ve now been awake for a really long time, and my day hasn’t even really begun yet. I’m just inside that window of time where taking a nap would be a bad idea, but I can’t go in to work just yet because people will look at me funny.

Guess it’s fat pants and coffee ’til then.

Coffee makes me a better singer. Does it enhance all my non-talents? I will try painting something just as soon as I get my laundry out of the dryer.

So, it’s chilly again. Yay? Sunday night it was warm enough to put the top down on the Purple Pimpmobile. It was my first time riding in a convertible, much less driving one. I have to say, having no roof is extremely distractive (is that a word? I doubt it) to people (*cough*me*cough*) who have the attention span of cats and want to watch the trees and stars and buildings and ceilings of parking garages as they go whizzing by, making interesting patterns.

That got me to hankering for spring. Which is weird; I usually relish winter and all its long-sleeved glory. We haven’t really had but one or two cold snaps so far. I know more will come. They always do. But I’m getting used to opening my windows and listening to the traffic again. And wearing flip-flops.

So, I’m still not sure about the car (my dad is doing all the negotiating with the insurance people; he won’t even let me call them because “they will steamroll [me],” he says). I have gotten something like five separate calls to my cell from clinics wanting me to come in for free screenings (effing ambulance chasers) and a flyer in the mail from a doctor. I keep telling them I’ve been checked out, I’m fine, etc., but they keep calling. People really do love suing the shit out of other people. I’m just so glad I’m not on the other end of this equation.

I dread the moment when I have to buy a new car. My dad will find out that I’m in more debt than he thinks (he thinks I’ve just got the student load loan <---- hee hee, Freudian typo!; I wish) and I’m sure I’ll get yelled at just a little. That’s fine; I probably deserve it. Some of my debt is legit — accrued when I had expensive surgery in April — but some is pretty bogus — shopping related and left over from when I helped a friend get his busted-ass car out of the shop and didn’t get fully reimbursed. But, you know, these things happen. I’ll get it figured out eventually. Or not. Either way, I’m sure new and exciting bullshit will crop up for me to deal with instead. Wheee!

Happy hump day. Remind me to never blog while on caffeine ever again.