More crap about the car
It looks as though my car has all kinds of things wrong with it. First, we replaced the alternator belt and thermostat, and now the repairman said that it needs a new air compressor and island pulley, as well as a replacement temperature gauge, since the car overheated, and the gauge got stuck on 260. He said if I drive it as is, the new alternator belt will burn up. He estimated that a new air compressor will cost $200, and an island pulley about $40. The temperature gauge would have to come from a junkyard, since the parts house wouldn't have that model in stock. He said it would be more cost effective in the long run to try to sell the car as is and buy another one, but there's no way I can afford that right now, so I'll be hitching rides until my mom can take a look at it. She wants me to drive it back to New Iberia, but Donnie's worried it'll break down on the way, and we'll have to tow it.
Earlier this evening, he kissed me with a mouthful of peanut butter. Peanut butter kisses are weird. My lips kind of got gummed together. It was as though my mouth didn't know what to do with it. Ever give a dog a gob of peanut butter? I probably looked like that.
This afternoon, I went into his room to call him to the computer to look at something, and he was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to me, tapping his foot and bobbing his head to "Shake It Up" by The Cars. He didn't hear me when I called him, so I stood there and watched him for a minute. After a little while, he turned around, and asked, "You caught me singing?" Later, I told him I thought it was cute, and he asked, "How long were you watching me?" I said, "About a minute," and he called me an asshole, and said, "I'm glad you didn't catch me singing into my comb or something." Actually, I'm trying to catch him playing air guitar -- I know he does it when I'm not looking.
We've been trying to no avail to get his dad to help move old furniture out of the apartment so we can move in, but his dad keeps putting it off. There are at least two sets of furniture in there, one of which we'll use, and the other of which no one plans to use, because Donnie's stepmother already has a third set of furniture she's using. Donnie suggested that his dad sell the furniture, but for whatever reason, his dad doesn't want to do it. We don't even really need help moving the furniture -- we just need a place to put the stuff after we move it out, but that's all getting tied up.
We just got back from visiting his friends Skotti and Jason, with whom we might be going to Lafayette tomorrow.