|So is this like the begining of the end, or what?
||[Jun. 27th, 2017|02:20 am]
Phrembah (a potato-like mystery)
The main evidence for the existence of God in my life has been the fact that if I put a mug or any sort of dish or container with a handle on it into the microwave, no matter the size or shape of the container or how long I set the time for, when the dinger dings the handle is pointed away from the door where I can't just grab it; I have to twist the container around or rotate the turntable tray (that does not want to rotate) before I can pick up the mug or the dish or whatever. I've always found this comforting because I knew that this couldn't happen every fucking time (like it did) unless the Hand of God was involved. So every time I had to try to turn a hot container around so that I could get a hold of it, I would smile to myself, knowing that God was there and He was just fuckin' with me.
Well, the other day, a bunch of shit went south at once. The left front wheel of my truck, which had a complete brake job in February, started throwing brake fluid. There was still fluid in the reservoir and the brakes still worked, but I definitely needed to get it into the shop in the morning. Except that when I came out of the movie I went to, the truck wouldn't start at all. Now, that didn't have anything to do with the brakes, of course, but it was 10:30 pm, so I walked home. When I got home the power was out in the neighborhood and remained out for about four hours. That meant no air conditioning and it was a couple of hours before the house cooled down enough to sleep. When I walked back down to the truck and called AAA in the morning, the guy said it looked like the fuel pump, and towed it up to the garage where it did turn out to be the fuel pump---to the tune of $700. When they called me with the news that it would be two days to get a fuel pump out of Santa Fe (auto parts mecca of the Southwest?), I asked about the brake fluid on the left front wheel and they had forgotten to look at it. The guy behind the counter, while nice enough, was not exactly a multi-tasker. He is more of a semi-tasker; you have to ask for each piece of information separately; nothing is volunteered just because it's pertinent. I imagine we'll have to do a separate auto repair cycle on the brakes, trying to fold that into the fuel pump adventure is just going to overload the system. So I'm stuck here without a vehicle for a few days. But . . .
Either God feels sorry for me or He died or something, because the last three times in a row that I put coffee or tea in the microwave, when the dinger dinged, the handle was facing me. Spooky.