Oh, the joy. Woke up too early, and couldn't get back to sleep. The sun comes in uninvited at this time of the year. I had to do something useful, the parental units are coming home later today, so I cleaned the house, and put all the furniture back in the proper places. I took the beast (a 1988 nissan pathfinder) in for it's weekly fill-up. Gas is still about $1.48, for 87 octane at the run-down Fina station (more at the newer Texaco across the street) Leaving the gas station, I put the key in, *click*. I try again. *click* *click*. fuck.
Call home No answer. (of course not, They don't arrive for another three hours) Call a friend. Arrange a pick-up An hour in the 104 degree (farenheit) summer sun later, he finally arrives. We push the car up the sloped parking lot, then back down. I leap into the rolling vehicle, throw it into first, and pop out the clutch. It starts. (sometimes the old tricks are the best; score 1 for stick shifts).
Work sucks. Having to beg to borrow your little sister's ancient clunker to drive to work sucks more.