By the time the alarm went off an hour and forty-six minutes later my mood hadn’t improved at all.
I got up and angrily put my contacts in, angrily showered and shaved, angrily dressed, and angrily made my way to the car, which I angrily drove to the gas station where I angrily filled my tank.
Still, while I was clearly in a very bad mood, the Universe decided it wasn’t quite enough, so about five miles into my (angry) drive to work my car started making a weird noise.
Because that was just what I fucking needed.
The sound coming from the car was pretty much drowned out the rest of the way by the sound of me grinding my teeth.
Once I got to work, things just went downhill, as the NOC was unusually loud and inane, not offering me the opportunity to ease into the irritation that all of the other people working there invariably bring.
When I was getting the shift hand off from Mitzi it was like being in one of those Cingular – now AT&T – dropped call commercials.
I’m serious, at certain points her lips were moving but no discernible sound was coming forth.
It’s not like I really needed anything from her – it’s easier and more fruitful to just read the ticket notes – but it was just one more bit of aggravation that I didn’t need.
As the day wore on my mood didn’t improve much – the fact that I was busy didn’t help matters – particularly with the thought of whatever the hell was wrong with my car looming over my head.
Throughout the day, as people saw my new phone, every single one asked, “Why didn’t you wait and get an iPhone?”
Given how belligerent I felt, I wanted to reply, “Fuck you, that’s why.”
I didn’t, instead saying that I simply had no interest in buying one, which is true enough, and pretty much all I feel the need to say on the subject.
On the drive home I noted that, apart from making the noise, nothing else weird.
I attempted the “maybe it’ll fix itself overnight” approach, which didn’t work, and drove it in to work again on Friday, but decided that after I drove it home I wouldn’t push my luck any further, and so I caught a ride with Brian on Saturday, and made an appointment to bring my car in on Monday.
The thought of having to get up early on Monday to bring the car in and the inevitable hassles that would result from whatever is undoubtedly majorly fucked-up with it, loomed over my Sunday festering and I often found myself nearly as pissed as I had been on Thursday.
I have since dropped the car off to be checked out and to have whatever maintenance service needs to be done at this point.
Turns out said service is the 30,000 mile service, which encompasses a bunch of crap, and may cost as much as $450.
Four. Hundred. Fifty. Dollars.
My level of pissed-offedness shot through the roof at that point, and I think the service guy – who was larger than I am – was actually frightened by the look I gave him, as he scrambled to justify the costs.
*Sigh*
As it stands, the very earliest I can expect them to be done is by 4, as the service alone will take several hours. I’m clinging to the pathetic hope that the noise was caused by something that will be addressed as part of the 30,000 mile service, but I know better than that.
Whatever is wrong should be covered by the warranty, though I’m sure they’ll try to find a way to weasel out of that.
Scott and I had plans to catch one of the Tranformers showings tonight, but I don’t know if that’s going to happen, since I may be without a vehicle.
During my Sunday fester, I did actually mess around with some creative endeavors, working on a picture that has yet to be completed, and trying out a couple of tutorials, one of which resulted in this rather cliché manipulation of a photo of Scarlett Johansson:
And that’s pretty much all that’s been going on.
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