Tuesday, September 18, 2007

project 365 #259: dogs on the path

I've decided to keep track of every single penny I spend and whoa, jesus, is it adding up fast. Yesterday afternoon I went to Sav Mor and to Aldi (where I ran into my delinquent son, who was skateboarding and cadging quarters in the parking lot, heavy sigh - I gave him and his friends each a Mountain Dew ($5 for a 12 pack at Sav Mor, cheaper than beer) and they went away happy) and I spent oh, lord, a fortune. On weird cheap crap, too: I'm still bribing the dog every day with new and ever more novel chew toys and Sav Mor has a wide selection of scary, horrible yet cheap dog chewie things made out of, apparently, whatever part of the pig does not in fact go into the hot dog. It's cheaper than the couch, I tell myself; it's cheaper than new shoes and even cheaper than doggie day care.

Then I finally got around to returning the overdue movies and suffered the terrible pain of the delinquent movie returner who hasn't even watched one of the movies yet. That would be 300, because I figured M would want to watch it with me and he's been too busy (see above) and I couldn't quite get myself into the mood for a lot of clanging sword noises. This is odd for me, since I'm a big fan of clanging sword noises, particularly when they're accompanied by sweaty, scantily clad men, but ah well. I had to watch that weird ass post apocalyptic miniseries instead.

The travails of the car are what brought me to this penny pinching pass. I had to get two new tires for it and I'm happy to report that it is now street legal. Unless the tail lights actually don't work. They worked fine the whole time the car (who, I confess, is called Batly, in reference to a long vanished MD license plate that happily said BAT on it) was taking her ease at the Saturn dealership. The guys there said there was nothing they could do if Batly refused to exhibit the same behavior that I brought her in for, which is kind of what pediatricians say when you bring in a child with a mysterious stomach ache that prevents him from attending school. I think probably my only logical course of action is to hire someone to follow me everywhere I go and if my brake lights don't work, they can take appropriate action. Like, maybe slamming into me while screaming "Dear God, no brake lights!!" would work. Or they could wave huge semaphore flags out their car windows. The details haven't been worked out yet but clearly, there is no other option.

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