Fu¢k Me.

I had a great time yesterday.  I came home to a fixed sink.  The plumber left the keys and we were able to find them.  We went to a Michigan Alumni Association Happy Hour in San Francisco at a swanky wine bar.  We met some really cool people, including a fairly recent grad who owns a sushi restaurant in the city, and he invited us to come check it out.  We are really excited to do just that!  (Everybody loves Annie and I.)  Fittingly, the person who was in charge of cheese at the wine bar was also a UM grad, and a good friend of one of the people at the Happy Hour, but he didn't know the event was happening, and they didn't know that they lived in the same city.  Long story short, we got a free, really cool cheese plate and he answered questions about everything.

We got home without getting rained on too hard.  We picked up Angel from Doggy Day Care late, but they didn't charge us extra.  We snagged a few slices from a delicious, local pizza place, watched gLee, and hit the sack.  Then, the alarm rang this morning.

I knew when Annie's alarm went off that today was going to be rough.  Something told me not to get out of bed (and it wasn't Annie, cuz she was damn near pushing me out).  It was my day to take Angel out and feed him breakfast.  This happens at 5:45am every morning, so we switch off like good parents.  We then, usually, go back to bed for 30 minutes or so (cuz it's the best puppy snuggling time of the day).

Well, I locked myself out.  Our roommate just returned from a trip to NYC to see her sister graduate from Columbia, and her mom was staying the night, and they got in really late, and she had to leave fairly early, so I felt bad ringing the doorbell to get Annie to come let me in.  So, I walked out in the road, picked up some stones, and started chucking them at our bedroom window.  It is impossible to throw stones at a girl's window without either of these going through your head: 1) "But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?  It is the east, and Juliet is the sun." or 2) any random scene from the John Hughes/Brat Pack movies of the mid-80s.

She came down to let me in.  Things were running smoothly (except the bathroom got all clogged up by the number of people in the apartment, as everyone was waking up).  I ended up having to skip a much-needed shower.  The real 'Fu¢k Me!' moment came when I went down to my car to drive Annie to work.  It didn't start.  My 2007 Dodge Caliber didn't fu¢king start.  Grrrr.

Two weeks ago or so, it started making funny noises, right around the time that I got a huge crack in my windshield.  I figured I'd just get all the fluids topped when I went to get my oil changed sometime soon.  I also figured I'd let the windshield go until it started to look dangerous.  I've been doing dramatically better with my money, but I just invested a fair bit into a super-secret self-improvement project.  I'm trying to hold off on investing money into my car, which is still fairly new and a trooper.

I guess that changes now.  I absolutely need my car by Saturday, for a fairly long trip.  This means I'll have to find money to have it towed, and have it fixed, and they'll probably want to replace my windshield, and we might as well do the tires/oil/everything else now.  Awesome.

I can't wait until we run out of oil, and I can bike to work every day,
~RoB