So when I told Mr. T about my dream (aka harangued him about his selfish behaviour) he laughed his head off and accused me of stopping him from following his dreams. Which were, quite literally, MY dreams, but whatever. And he looked all shifty about the $24 grand and won’t tell me where it is. The thing is, the note in the dream actually named the bank, but I CAN’T REMEMBER. Oh the irony.
Other than that, my car has been having odd electrical problems for a few weeks. Occasionally the electric windows wouldn’t work, and then once it started raining (which it hasn’t done for months), I discovered that when the windows wouldn’t work, the wipers didn’t work either. I had to turn the engine off and then on again to get everything to work, which is a bit difficult when, say, driving down the freeway. I meant to book it in this week but then this morning, backing into my parking space at work, I noticed the lack of brake lights reflecting off the concrete wall behind me. Oh. Great. Obviously I took the car down to be serviced today (after sitting in my parking building turning my car on and off, on and off, on and off until finally the electrics caught and held…) and when told the year and make of my car, the technician said, “oh yeah. They do that sometimes. It’s the ignition switch.” THANK YOU HERE IS TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS. I used to love my car but it is rapidly tipping away from Benign Mode Of Transportation towards Money Pit.
Oh here it is, funnily enough, on rainy Saturday. However I draw your attention to the Ikea roller blind in the window above it. Does it look sort of… aerated… to you? Like, for example, a little grey weasel has been CHOMPING on it? Even though he has toys and a brother to chomp on instead? THEY DO IT TO TORMENT ME.