By noon today, I'd taken my car in to be worked on, come home, mapped out dinners for two weeks because we can't stand to go to Berkeley Bowl more often than that (and I don't trust Jerry to come up with low-carb dishes), gone to BB, come home and unloaded six bags of whatever, and picked up my car for $300.
Generally, good |
That's six drives across Berkeley. The later in the day it got, the more hellish, because our route across town almost always involves driving past Berkeley High or the University, and if it's lunchtime, forget it. Students pour across the street, and you sit in your car and get agitated. Jerry and I are bad co-drivers; we egg each other on.
"TURN RIGHT ON RED, you idiot! Don't you know the rules of the road?"
Yesterday I came up with the Golden Hemorrhoid Award for slowest, most distracted driver (at the time, a silver Chrysler). We awarded it several times this morning.
The man at the garage told me that my 1995 Camry station wagon is in very good shape, considering its age and mileage (132,000). Also that I could sell it for a surprising amount of money because "it's a simple four-cylinder car without four-wheel drive and all that." I.e., it was the cheapest model I could find at the time.
Yesterday, my doctor told me just about the same thing re my body (not the selling part). I'm pretty healthy, all things considered, but will I please take Vitamin D? Only it wasn't a suggestion. Dr. T. orders.
I tried to tell her how I'd just read that calcium and Vitamin D don't really build bone, but she waved that off and told me if I didn't take Vitamin did, I'd have rickets. Forget the calcium. Also, she thinks I should feel empowered by coping with my insomnia by not taking meds.
I don't, but I was afraid to tell her.
Now my car's back in the garage, and I'm not taking it out again for the rest of the day day. I might feel empowered if I go out for a walk and leave it right where it is.
Home again: The Blue Porpoise
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