6.14.2000

    The daily cat-throttling continues unabated. We've tried hiding the pill in all sorts of yummy food but it just doesn't work. He knows. So, we throw him down, pry his mouth open, shove the pill in and then hold him down some more to make sure he swallows it. It's a nice way to start the day.

    The move went fairly well. We hired movers and on Sunday we got a crew of two, one slow and one fast, huffing up and down our apartment stairs and then huffing up and down the house stairs and it was worth every penny. We still have stuff back at the apartment, including my beloved car. I'm off to see if I can fetch it this afternoon. It will take some doing.

    See, it's got a very flat tire and the starter appears to be shot. Can you see the dilemma? Either I put on the spare, jump-start it and drive cross-town to the mechanic for the starter or I put on the spare, jump-start it and head to the nearest tire place for a new tire which would require jump-starting it after every time they turn it off. I don't think they'd like that. The former seems like the best option. I just feel nervous because, see...

...I've never changed a tire before.
Never.

Oh, sure, I've done other stuff with my car. Changed my oil. Fiddled with the wiring. Poked. Prodded. Gotten really dirty. Laid down in the gravel to examine the undercarriage. But, I've never changed a tire. I've never had the opportunity. And, I don't have a working jack. Which means that I'll need to get Thom to haul out his jack and possibly doing some supervising; since he loathes anything having to do with my car I have every chance of being throttled on the spot.

    Anyway, I have an appointment with the mechanic for Friday. I'm crossing my fingers that I can get my car home tonight. If you're kicking back having a beer this evening, think of me getting all dirty for my car and send me good thoughts like: "Hope that spare tire isn't flat." and "Wow, it sure would suck if you stalled out somewhere on the freeway so don't do that." and "I hope Thom hasn't smacked you over the head with a tire iron and you're not lying bleeding and helpless in the parking lot of a nondescript apartment complex." Okay? Thanks.