This has been a really shitty week for me, and I really need to vent my frustration, so this will probably be a long and semi-boring post. Sorry.
Sunday morning I went to get in my car and it wouldn’t start. I have a Jeep Grand Cherokee (2001). The husband thought it was the battery, so he goes out and buys a new one, sticks it in the car and everything works just fine. I’m happy.
Monday morning I had a doctor’s appointment. Again, the car is dead. When the husband gets home in the evening, he tries jumping it and it won’t take a jump, so he runs out and buys a battery charger — we let the battery charge over night.
Tuesday morning, the husband sticks the charged battery in the car and nothing. So we’re now thinking maybe it’s the alterntor or a short somewhere is causing the battery to drain. It could happen. I’m hoping fixing it will be expensive, as in over $500. Secretly, I’m hoping the car is dying for good. As in no longer available or suitable for driving, because that’s the only fucking way I’m ever going to get a new car. My husgband believes we should squeeze every last penny out of vehicles. So… no death, no new car.
Anyway, to make a loooong story shorter, we buy yet another battery and drive the damn Jeep to the car fixing place and leave it there for them to deal with.
Wednesday, I’m without a car, it’s Ash Wednesday and must get to mass for my ashes. That’s what a good Catholic should do, so that was my plan. The only mass available to me was the 7:30 p.m. one since my husband doesn’t get home from work until 6:30 or so, and he was the only one with a vehicle. Bummer.
Okay, so it’s 6:15 p.m., the husband shows up and he’s cussing up a blue streak. HIS car is dead. Something about a blown gasket and he wasn’t dishing out money to fix it. That’s it for the Saturn. Dead. Get a new car. Meanwhile, we have mass to attend. I call up the DQ and ask her to take us, and she does. Not only does she agree to go with us, she brings a friend. We get to mass, and lo and behold it is full, I mean standing room only and everyone in the place is Mexican. Everyone.
Guess what? The 7:30 mass is the Spanish one. Shit. So the daughter and husband are really upset with me. The friend is looking at me like I’m a friggin’ idiot. I’m angry with myself for not checking before coming. So we sit through the mass, and I’m dumbfounded because I’m fluent in Spanish; however, I cannot understand a single word that is being said. Now, some folk may think that Spanish is Spanish, but let me tell you… it ISN’T. Mexicans speak with a lilt and inflection all their own, running words together and sometimes using slang or words that mean totally different to me (in the Spanish I was taught, which is Castillian). My Grandmother was from Cordova, Spain. OK, we suffer through mass only to discover there are no ashes being dispensed at this mass. Need I go on?
On the way home the husband informs me that he’s buying a Honda Civic because those get the best gas mileage. At this point, I’ve had just about fucking enough and I rip into him. Because….
- A Honda Civic means he will continue to use my Jeep for Schutzhund, hauling men stuff around, and going hunting.
- I will continue to have man smell in my car, and dog hair.
- He will keep piling on the miles on my poor vehicle that at this point has 200,000 miles on it (because of HIM).
The husband promised me… he PROMISED me, that when it came time to buy a new car for him, he would get an SUV so that he can do the things he does and leave my vehicle alone. But hell no. He’s going to buy a tiny thing of a car and continue to abuse mine.
This morning, Thursday, he takes off work and we go car shopping. Guess what he buys? This:
I was totally floored. All that arguing last night for nothing. But now I’m a happy camper, and the husband can continue sleeping in my bed.
But wait… I’m not through ranting.
I’ve decided that I want to take the DQ and the grandson on a road trip to Disney World. See originally I was going to go with the husband because he had one of those Special Ops conferences in Orlando, but that’s been cancelled. So I thought of the road trip. I mean just because he can’t go doesn’t mean I have to suffer, right? So the DQ and I plan the trip and then I tell him about it. What does he say? “Sure. Sounds fine to me, except, who’s going to take care of the dogs during the day?”
Excuse me? The dogs don’t need babysitting? Hello? He just doesn’t want me to do anything, I guess. No new car, no road trip, no new puppy right this minute…
I’m too tired to argue the point this week, but you just wait till next week when I’ve caught my breath and am ready for round two. I am SO shopping for a new puppy and checking hotel and Disney World package prices.
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