Repairs

Ugh. My car is in the shop. I hate that. There is nothing like a broken down car to remind you of how hopeless you are. Especially in Southern California. Sure, you can use public transportation, if you don't have get get anywhere. That trip that normally takes ten minutes will take about 4 hours, because you have to ride two buses and a train to get to where you want to go. It's days like this I wish I lived in NYC. Not that I don't at other times, but now especially.

Now I'm forced to ask for help. Which I hate.

Someone has to get me from here to there because my life won't stop for an overheated engine. I have to hope someone won't be too inconvenienced by my helplessness, and they'll take pity on me in my house arrest. There will be no school, no work, no errands until I have help. Damn.

I hate feeling helpless.

Why are cars so expensive? They are charging me $100 and that won't even be fixing anything yet. It's like charging someone for thinking about making a phone call. Or charging for a look at the menu. wtf? It's times like this I wish I'd taken auto shop at the local jc or something. I'm such a girl. The damsel in distress. Rapunzel in the tower.

This is not who I am. I am independent. Just ask my parents...Oh wait, they don't talk to me anymore. Never mind. Ask my ex. (or a few of them) That's probably why they all dumped me anyway. Because every man really wants the damsel in distress, not the girl with her own trusty steed. Which I am now without. My brave white steed is in the shop, eagerly awaiting diagnosis so she can get back on the road.