I Wonder How Much Karma I'm Burning Off?
Wow--just realized how long it had been since I'd posted here. I'm not dead, as at least a few of you know. I'm just buried in work (which is including manual labor now, as we save our heavy-duty projects for breaks), reviewing for the PW / Amazon contest, and gearing up for Christmas, among other things.
My current relationship with my car is what's burning karma at the moment. I haven't been able to drive it since late October, after discovering that my car is a phenomenon. And I discovered recently that not only did it need a new battery, I also needed yet another one of those rare creatures that disturbs so many Southwest Virginia denizens of the more prudish variety, a big honkin' bent male battery fuse.
In the meantime, the car was sitting long enough for the inspection sticker to expire, too.
But now, the battery is finally in. Then Laurie found me a bent male fuse. I'm two centimeters from being able to drive my car again after long last. I go today to put the fuse in...
...Only to discover one of the fuse bolts is stripped. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, except that the bolt is down this tiny little indentation in the plastic fuse box case, where I can't get to it with pliers, ratchets, or a saw. A drill could, but I don't quite want to go there yet.
Burning bad karma would be a lot easier if I knew what I was burning off.
On the other hand I got to go on our annual Christmas library lunch that my boss springs for; I'd missed two out of the last three years due to illnesses and catastrophes. So I can at least say I had a belly full of good country cookin' while I was grumbling curses at the bolt and my screwdrivers.
My current relationship with my car is what's burning karma at the moment. I haven't been able to drive it since late October, after discovering that my car is a phenomenon. And I discovered recently that not only did it need a new battery, I also needed yet another one of those rare creatures that disturbs so many Southwest Virginia denizens of the more prudish variety, a big honkin' bent male battery fuse.
In the meantime, the car was sitting long enough for the inspection sticker to expire, too.
But now, the battery is finally in. Then Laurie found me a bent male fuse. I'm two centimeters from being able to drive my car again after long last. I go today to put the fuse in...
...Only to discover one of the fuse bolts is stripped. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, except that the bolt is down this tiny little indentation in the plastic fuse box case, where I can't get to it with pliers, ratchets, or a saw. A drill could, but I don't quite want to go there yet.
Burning bad karma would be a lot easier if I knew what I was burning off.
On the other hand I got to go on our annual Christmas library lunch that my boss springs for; I'd missed two out of the last three years due to illnesses and catastrophes. So I can at least say I had a belly full of good country cookin' while I was grumbling curses at the bolt and my screwdrivers.