Ordering

I worked overnight and was completely starved and exhausted. So, I stopped at a gas station for fuel and a sandwich. And yes, it is totally gross that I ate at a gas station Subway.

I intended to order the same thing I always order at Subway. A tuna salad sandwich with lettuce, tomato, olives, and topped with oil and vinegar. Again, gross, I know. Instead, Zombie Sam decided to order the food.

Subway Kid: "What can I get for you?"
Zombie Me: "I'll have an egg and cheese on honey...wow. No I won't. Sorry. Can I get a tuna sandwich on....do you have some kind of honey bread?"
SK: "Honey Oat?"
Me: "Yes! That please."
Note: At this point this kid is looking at me like he really wishes he had some of whatever I was on.
SK: "What would you like on it?"
Me: "Lettuce, tomato, and olives"
SK: "Mayonnaise or mustard?"
Me: "No, just salt and vinegar."
SK: "Ok...salt and vinegar."
And he starts shaking salt onto my sandwich.
Me: "Why are you putting salt on my sandwich?!"
SK: "You wanted salt and vinegar?"
Me: "Salt and vinegar? Oh my God no....OIL and vinegar. I'm sorry. Just give it to me."
SK: "Are you sure? I can make you another one."
Me: "No no, it's my fault. I'll eat it. Thanks."

FYI...it was gross. Luckily I'd also purchased a bag of pepperidge far macadamia nut cookies to wash it down with. Mmmmm....healthy. :-p

Things That Have Happened to Me Lately

First, I was completely tricked by Tom's entire family. A few weeks before Mother's Day, Tom's sister calls and says she's planning a Mother's Day brunch. She's making all the arrangements, she just wants to see if I'd be off work. I told her I was off that weekend, and would plan to at least make an appearance. My sister was going to be in town and I didn't want to make her go to Tom's family function since she doesn't really know them very well. However, the time comes and she seems fine with going. I have a gift for Tom's mother, wrap it, and we show up at the restaurant. There are gifts and a couple tables full of people. I walk up and Tom's sister says, "This is for you. SURPRISE!"

I totally don't believe them. Also, I'm holding my new nephew Jimmy who I looooove.

It was actually a surprise bridal shower that I had NO idea was coming. I actually didn't even believe them until I saw a couple of my friends there. It was totally awesome, and I cannot BELIEVE they fooled me so completely. My sister is evil, and Tom's family is surprisingly sneaky.

I just realized they weren't kidding. And poor Jimmy's losing his hat.

Later that night, we had my bachelorette party (which I did know about) and this happened.

Enough said.

So, partying done, Tom and I began seriously house hunting. I hate my landlady with the fire of a thousand hells, and want to get out of here. We figured, might as well buy a house instead of having to stuff all our belongings into yet another apartment. Can I just tell you? Open houses SUUUUUUCK. We must've gone to 30 of the stupid things. And apparently the people most affected by this recession are those who 1. own cats, 2. never clean up after said cats, 3. smoke lots of cigarettes while watching the cats pee on every inch of their home. I would leave every house sneezing and retching. It was awful.

So, Tom and I found a house. We walk in, it doesn't smell like cat pee, sold! We actually sign the purchase & sale agreement on the house today, and close July 29th. So, those of you who are coming to our wedding can see the house while you're here. Because I will be living there. And it will be awesome. I have a bunch of photos, but I feel bad posting them here since most of them are full of the current owners' stuff. So, I'll just post a photo of the front.

My crib.

Besides home-buying and wedding planning, it's also been crazy at work. Which of course, means that I have another lovely tale of truckdom for you. As you know, every wheel on my car has fallen off and been reattached at some point. So the other day I was driving home (after using an entire tank of gas in one day...I drove to almost every state in New England) and all of a sudden I hear a clatter. I think that maybe I've run over a bottle? I look in the rear view mirror and see....my spare tire. It has fallen off of the bottom of my truck (apparently the cable that holds it there had rusted through) and is rolling around in 4 lanes of traffic. People are swerving left and right. I am soon going to be responsible for someone's death. Of course by the time I notice it, I'm 5 cars ahead of the tire and can't turn around because I'm on a one-way street. I take a left on the next street so that I can loop around, but it's taking awhile. Of course, this happened to me right at 5 PM. I call the police and tell them the situation.

Operator: "Ma'am, I need to know exactly what street you're on so I can dispatch an officer."
Me: "Umm...I have no idea. It's near the Mass pike, I don't know what street. Hang on. When I circle back I'll read you the street sign."
Operator: "Okay."
Me: "Ok! It's Center Street. Hang on...the cars are stopped at a light, I think I can get the tire."
Operator: "Okay, just let me know."

So I jump out of the car, still on my cell phone, did I mention it's pouring rain? Cause it is. And of course the tire is in the middle lane of traffic, I go to lift it and HOLY CRAP SPARE TIRES ARE HEAVY. Probably doesn't help when they're wet and caked with mud. I can't really pick it up, so I roll it toward the bed of my truck. But then I really do need to lift it because cars are coming, i'm still on the phone, it's still raining, and I'm going to die soon. I heave it up over the side of the truck, toss it in the bed, and get back in the car. I tell the operator that I got the tire and the cops get to stay out of the rain.

And that is how I got a tire track across my arm. It has been a loooong month.

Diagnosis: Your Car Hates You

The mechanic finally got around to taking a look at my poor pathetic mode of transportation. Their opinion? I am mean to my car. The guy calls me at about 7:30 last night. What he's still doing at his garage at that hour, I don't know...obviously I was at the bar by then...but it's nice to know he's dedicated to his work.

Mechanic: "Hi Sam, just wanted to give you a call about your truck."
Me: "Great. How does it look?""
Mechanic: "Well, it's not good. Tell me- did you recently hit anything?"
Me: "Well, it's the end of winter in New England. I'm sure I've hit a lot of things. Not like kids, or animals, or anything...but probably my share of potholes."
Mechanic: Yeah...that makes sense. You've got a few problems that we'll need to fix. First of all, your front right rotor is shattered. It isn't worn out, it's more like you hit something and it broke into a bunch of pieces. Actually that whole assembly is destroyed. It's lucky you had it towed in here because that wheel was actually about to fall off of your car*.
Me: "Wow. Good thing."
Mechanic: "The second thing we'd want to fix is your shocks. You have no shocks on the front of your car. They're so....fluid....not even working...much smoother ride..." (at this point I had no idea what he was talking about and kind of tuned out.)
Me: "Okay...smoother ride sounds good."
Mechanic: "So, I'm thinking at the absolute most it's going to end up being about $900 and I can hopefully get it back to you by the end of the week."
Me: "OK. Thanks?"

I wish I knew anything about cars. I think he's also doing something else to the car, and according to my companions at the bar the front end stuff will take a lot of labor. So maybe $900 isn't the worst price of all time. But then I think about the bluebook value of my truck (maaaybe $1500 if I was lucky) and shudder. I have doubled the value of my truck twice in 2 years. The thing is a rolling moneypit.

*Aside: Those of you who read my previous blog about the trip from Atlanta will remember that this is the EXACT same problem that I had two years ago. And which I drove on for a grand total of 3 hrs on an interstate prior to getting repairs. Wildcard!

In Which My Car Was Probably Trying To Tell Me Something

Readers of my previous blog may recall the last time my car made funny noises. It sounded like metal grinding on metal- primarily because that's exactly what had happened. My rotors had exploded and my axle was pretty much just held in place by the will of God. As a solution, I of course drove the car 60 mph for 2 hrs until the wheels almost literally fell off.

So, when my car started making funny noises yesterday...I'm sure you can all guess where this is headed. The car has been making occasional strange noises for a while now, but I just chalked that up to my car being a total piece of crap. Leave well enough alone is my motto, and I had extended it to "Leave well enough alone and the sound of ducks dying is a standard feature in American-made cars." I lead a rich fantasy life. But yesterday the noise became less of an occasional squeak or quack and more of a rubbing that simultaneously tried to pull me off the road. I knew I would have to take it to a mechanic today, but thought I'd be able to make it to my meetings in Boston first. The truck only has 130K miles on it- it'll be fine, right?

Not so much. The view from my windshield quickly became the view from Timmy's windshield...and it really needs cleaning.I made it about 3 miles before the rubbing sound became more akin to the sound of all my car's parts being run through a dryer. It sounded terrible. So I decided to pull over. I applied the brake...applied more brake...sweet Jesus I am braking aren't I?! Before finally grinding to a halt. Needless to say I was a little terrified to drive any further and had to call my friendly roadside assistance provider.

Now my car is sitting outside a mechanic's near my house where they "might" get around to doing a diagnostic today. I have a bad feeling about how much this is going to cost...and how long it's going to take. As Timmy was driving me home I just stared at my pitiful vehicle and thought, "I am never buying American again."

The Commute

I drive over this bridge:











And I drive through a tunnel like this:










And seeing this tells me I'm almost there:














It takes longer, but it beats the pants off of passing the future home of one of these every morning:











Woo Boston! :)