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Wheeling

Geeze Louise. I was wrong about the locked brakes on the car but it was still something that could’ve become a big. Fookin’. Deal. Yes, the clutch was well and truly dead, bad enough that it alone was a safety hazard. So too were some parts on the axle. No fun, but at least now I shouldn’t have to worry about being stranded in the middle of nowhere.

My knees went kaplooey again, so I had the car taken in for work Monday, since I wasn’t going anywhere anyway. It’s all fixed for the moment (the car anyway – the knee’s still giving me grief) and my bank account was lightened to the tune of about $1500. I keep telling myself even if I bought another vehicle I would still have to do repairs to it, and have a longer car payment on top of that. I still have close to $3K worth of work that needs to be done on this little monster but it’s stuff that isn’t immediate or hazardous and can be done incrementally.

At least now I’m driving a functionally new car. Yeah, it really feels like that. When the mechanic told me how bad the clutch was I wasn’t surprised. What did surprise me was how drastically different she runs now. So I’m good with that.

A few days ago, I wrote a letter to an old friend I found after about forty years. She may not remember me and I’m prepared for that. I still had to give it a shot. The sad part was that while I’d tried from time to time to find her by searches online (searching for her brothers since I knew it was likely she’d married and her surname changed), it took one of her brothers’ obituary for me to finally track her down. She was listed as one of the survivors, giving her new name and her spouse’s name.

I wrote a few paragraphs to my book 2, made a little headway in book 4 (or 3, depending on which I actually finish first). I can’t focus well enough to do anything substantial.

It’s challenging at best to write at this point in my life. Family drama doesn’t help, but kind of comes with the territory. #1 son texted me a couple of hours ago, asking if he could stay here. He has a life threatening and very debilitating illness and a less than optimal living situation. I don’t know whether or not he’ll actually show up, but he knows he’s got a place here if he needs it. The last message said he was trying to work it out. I love him to death of course, but having him here is also not the optimal situation for anyone. He has two young sons who would be without their dad and he’d probably go nuts without them, too.

Little Guy is being a normal toddler lately too, which means wreaking havoc by exploring and playing with things he shouldn’t, and generally being contrary. The terrible twos are upon us. So far today he has unzipped the beanbag part of my laptop desk and scattering the pellets from it, dumped a cup of sports drink- intentionally – onto the floor (luckily it was the kitchen tile floor instead of carpeting), and emptied half the salt shaker onto the table before we caught him. It’s all exploratory rather than intentionally malicious, but still driving everyone to distraction. His poor mommy is studying for an intensive anatomy test and he’s doing everything in his power to distract her. It’s working.

Gotta love kids.

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