The alternator on my car finally blew out last night, so this morning, instead of going to work, I called around to Atlanta-area garages and tried to get a towtruck. Of course, in the middle of making that decision, my car started, and I was able to drive it to my usual mechanic ... in Buford, 30 miles away.
At one point this afternoon, because my mom did her "overreaction intervention" when it came to me getting a rental car, I found myself with my lunch bag in my lap, riding in a pickup truck with my redneck stepfather to the rental car office. Behind us, he towed a 40-foot fishing boat.
Now my car, worth about $50, is having an $800+ repair done on it, which, for some reason, has given my mother, of all people, cause to yell at me about buying too many DVDs, of all things.
I hate today. I hate hate hate hate hate today.
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