So yes, there have been plenty of other things to think about this week, to prevent me from feeling like an author. Tuesday morning the car wouldn’t start. After 30 minutes out there in the cold, wet, dark early morning trying to figure out how to jump start it, my neighbor and I concluded that it wasn’t going to jump. No, our car was simply not going to go to work that day, thank you very much. It was going to stay right where it was. So I took my neighbor to work in her car, and then drove her car to my school.
I hate driving other people’s cars, especially when you have no time to even figure out what where all the necessary knobs and things are before you’re zooming down the freeway at 65 mph.
And today I borrowed my other neighbor’s car. I feel like a car thief, lurking about in the school parking lot thinking “what did that car look like again?” But I guess if the key fits, take it. Silas just now finished putting our new car battery in (that’s pretty impressive for a philosopher, if I may say so). So tomorrow I can take our own car to work.
And then our lap top computer went on the blink. Also on Tuesday. The worst thing about this is that it causes a disruption in the sibling relationships in our household resulting in the increased likelihood of fist fights. Plus I can’t have my usual early morning quiet time to check the e-mail and write or look up the price of rice in China or anything like that.
So I’m typing this in the evening. And I’m tired. And I hear a fist fight brewing, so this will have to be short. Short and sour, apparently. But at least when one is having a not-so-great time, one can comfort oneself with the thought that things are likely to get better.