I managed to check off a couple of items from my long term to do list. First, I got the phone on flat rate plans for all of our calling. This included a message center, so at long last my home phone has voicemail. This should eliminate countless problems with the furshlugginer answering machine, especially the fact it doesn't work during blackouts.
I've also broken down and purchased an ISDN line, to be installed in late November. While not the speediest solution out there, it's still markedly better than what we have now. Hell, even if I set it up to use just one B channel, that's still 64K... as opposed to the 28.8 we've been suffering through since... well, since I started this journal, actually.
penguin_goddess called me at home this afternoon in a complete tizzy... apparently the jerkwads at her work were at it again. She asked if we could meet for dinner and a tub in Santa Craze. Since Michele and Rob were both having dinner with Barry tonight, it worked out perfectly.
It turns out Kim's problems were chronic. She's been driving lavendersage's car since her car died and her now ex-roomie (which we refer to now as 275 for reasons too bitter to go into here... especially since one of the sweetest cats in the world, one LoveChilde, has been butting her head against my left hand for solace. She really HATES it when Michele is gone for even a couple of hours... but I digress...) decided that he needed his extra truck more than she did. Well, as far as she could tell, it up and died two blocks from Well Within.
After the tub I went to the car and tried turning it over. It started up okay, and we tried to take it to a gas station (my theory was that the needle, tho' still more or less over "E", was inaccurate), only to have the (expletive restrained) thing die again... this time on Pacific Avenue.
I leapt out and began to push, with Kim steering. Some guy runs up to help push (whatever deities he has should bless him... he looked like a UC student). My intention was to have Kim turn around the corner... except she forgot to unlock the steering wheel. This resulted in us making the next left and pushing it into a parking spot. He bailed, and I was so winded (I really AM getting to old for that shit... though lavendersage pointed out later that when I was wont to push vehicles for the step I was unmedicated ultra hyper boy. I also have to concede that the air quality has been so bad lately even things I *know* I'm capable of are making me wheeze like a 90 year old emphysema victim) that I could do more than shake his hand. I should have offered to buy him dinner. Ah well...
I walk back to my car, drive to a 76 station over on Ocean, where they have a freebie gas can for a small deposit. I roll back, dump the gas in... and all is well.
We bring the can back to the 76, where I ask Kim "So, the first rule of driving someone else's car is...?"
"Never let it get below a quarter tank."
Since she already knew the rule, AND since I had been busy calling myself the same thing, I proceeded to dub her a "dumbass". Call it a Dumbass Hierarchy. She took it in the loving spirit given.
So, now I'm home, still feeling like I should rotor rooter out my lungs, about to watch "The Elegant Universe" Nova on PBS with LoveChilde making eyes at me and vogueing for attention. I'll tell the tail of the psycho mouse mad from the heat later.