Wild Karmic Swings
This week has been one of the crazier on record. Let me make a gigantic post about it.
On Monday, I worked late, then got in my car to leave. I was working my way out of the parking lot through one of my usual routes, except that the piles of snow plowed up from last weekend's epic snowfall were blocking some of the usual driving path. No problem. I turn slightly left to avoid them. Then I see one of those concrete blocks they put at the end of parking spots, as I'm headed right for the last spot in the row. I try to turn right to avoid that, and fail. I expect the front wheel to jump over the thing, but it doesn't. It does, however, make an impressive crunching sound. I get out to watch antifreeze pouring out of my car.
I went back to retrieve the large piece of plastic undercarriage that was near the now-overturned concrete, then tore off the piece of front fender that was hanging by a thread. I glance inside the car and see that no warning lights are on. Interesting. I decide to try to limp the thing home. No issues. I get the car into my garage and turn off the engine, and it decides to spray antifreeze all over the place.
This generation of Prius has a vacuum cylinder (think Thermos bottle) that keeps the antifreeze warm when the car is off. When you turn on the car, it pumps the antifreeze out of that cylinder and into the normal cooling system, and vice versa when you turn it off. I must have busted that thing, since the coolant system didn't seem to care that it was leaking while the car was running, and I got the coolant cannon action after it was off.
I call up the insurance agency about the problem. They ask if it's drivable. I say, "Kind of." I could fill the radiator with coolant, start up the car and drive it somewhere, then try to catch it as it sprays out after I turn it off. In theory, it shouldn't hurt the car. The agent agrees that's a bad idea. I also find out that I have 80% rental car coverage while the Prius is being repaired, but that there are a bunch of extra taxes and charges applied to airport rentals, so I should try an off-airport place. It's now too late on Monday to get a hold of any of these branches.
Turns out, I'm not the first person to pull this stunt, because every non-airport rental car location for 10 miles that I can find is out of cars. I have an 8 am meeting on Tuesday, so I decide, fuck it, I'm just going for the airport. Turns out the airport Enterprise doesn't have pick-up service, nor do they work with insurance companies. Whatever. I just need a car. By the time I get everything set up and I'm ready to leave, it's about 8 am. I decide that I wouldn't get to the airport any faster by trying to get a ride from somebody than it would take just taking the bus, so I leave with fare in hand only to see my neighbor leaving for work. He agrees to give me a ride to the airport (w00t! One bright spot!), and I get a cheap, automatic-nothing Hyundai Accent with little difficulty.
On my way to work, apparently my brain shuts down. I miss the exit to the parking ramp on the airport, and drive around in a circle. I then go the wrong way on 494, get stuck in the retarded, ever-present westbound traffic, and get to work an hour later when it really only should have taken 15 minutes.
That day at work, I get my final appraisal for the year. Much to my surprise, I got the rating which is "exceeds expectations" but not quite "walks on water". My boss tells me that even though this was my first year ever of being a manager, I've actually come up to speed and done better than the expectations of the position. Statistically, we're talking about top 25% kind of performance. In my first year. My boss actually alluded to me taking over his job during the review. Awesome. Also, since raises are based on your salary relative the median for your position (I'm in the best position here because I just started so I'm not being paid much relative to others) and your final rating (I'm one notch from the top), my raise next year should be very juicy. Ah, there's a karmic swing back to center.
The rest of the week was pretty much average. We bought a treadmill for Pam to get some exercise in the winter, and we also found out that Nessa's car seat doesn't fit very well in an Accent. Oh, and Nessa is improving her walking pretty quickly. And then last night happens.
I come home with some groceries, and Pam comes upstairs and requests some ice cream. Then, she stops short like somebody just punched her. She immediately goes to the bathroom and grabs her cocktail of drugs for a severe migraine, which includes an anti-nausea pill. She goes to bed with an ice pack, and I stay up to finish reading the rules to 1854. As I'm sitting on the toilet after getting ready for bed around 1 am, Pam bursts into the bathroom and Daves all over the bathtub. We quickly determine that, yes, this is another trip to the hospital. I get one of my neighbors up (the same that gave me a ride to the airport) to crash at our place so he can be around if Nessa wakes up, then pack up Pam. They hook her up to an IV with a pile of drugs, and by 5:30 am Pam's back in bed at home. I clean up the puke in the bathtub and go to sleep.
At 10 this morning, I call my parents and ask them to watch Nessa while we recover. After my dad picks her up, I head back to bed and sleep until 4.
So, Universe, I'm letting you know that Pam and I expect a swing back to the good any time now. Thanks.
On Monday, I worked late, then got in my car to leave. I was working my way out of the parking lot through one of my usual routes, except that the piles of snow plowed up from last weekend's epic snowfall were blocking some of the usual driving path. No problem. I turn slightly left to avoid them. Then I see one of those concrete blocks they put at the end of parking spots, as I'm headed right for the last spot in the row. I try to turn right to avoid that, and fail. I expect the front wheel to jump over the thing, but it doesn't. It does, however, make an impressive crunching sound. I get out to watch antifreeze pouring out of my car.
I went back to retrieve the large piece of plastic undercarriage that was near the now-overturned concrete, then tore off the piece of front fender that was hanging by a thread. I glance inside the car and see that no warning lights are on. Interesting. I decide to try to limp the thing home. No issues. I get the car into my garage and turn off the engine, and it decides to spray antifreeze all over the place.
This generation of Prius has a vacuum cylinder (think Thermos bottle) that keeps the antifreeze warm when the car is off. When you turn on the car, it pumps the antifreeze out of that cylinder and into the normal cooling system, and vice versa when you turn it off. I must have busted that thing, since the coolant system didn't seem to care that it was leaking while the car was running, and I got the coolant cannon action after it was off.
I call up the insurance agency about the problem. They ask if it's drivable. I say, "Kind of." I could fill the radiator with coolant, start up the car and drive it somewhere, then try to catch it as it sprays out after I turn it off. In theory, it shouldn't hurt the car. The agent agrees that's a bad idea. I also find out that I have 80% rental car coverage while the Prius is being repaired, but that there are a bunch of extra taxes and charges applied to airport rentals, so I should try an off-airport place. It's now too late on Monday to get a hold of any of these branches.
Turns out, I'm not the first person to pull this stunt, because every non-airport rental car location for 10 miles that I can find is out of cars. I have an 8 am meeting on Tuesday, so I decide, fuck it, I'm just going for the airport. Turns out the airport Enterprise doesn't have pick-up service, nor do they work with insurance companies. Whatever. I just need a car. By the time I get everything set up and I'm ready to leave, it's about 8 am. I decide that I wouldn't get to the airport any faster by trying to get a ride from somebody than it would take just taking the bus, so I leave with fare in hand only to see my neighbor leaving for work. He agrees to give me a ride to the airport (w00t! One bright spot!), and I get a cheap, automatic-nothing Hyundai Accent with little difficulty.
On my way to work, apparently my brain shuts down. I miss the exit to the parking ramp on the airport, and drive around in a circle. I then go the wrong way on 494, get stuck in the retarded, ever-present westbound traffic, and get to work an hour later when it really only should have taken 15 minutes.
That day at work, I get my final appraisal for the year. Much to my surprise, I got the rating which is "exceeds expectations" but not quite "walks on water". My boss tells me that even though this was my first year ever of being a manager, I've actually come up to speed and done better than the expectations of the position. Statistically, we're talking about top 25% kind of performance. In my first year. My boss actually alluded to me taking over his job during the review. Awesome. Also, since raises are based on your salary relative the median for your position (I'm in the best position here because I just started so I'm not being paid much relative to others) and your final rating (I'm one notch from the top), my raise next year should be very juicy. Ah, there's a karmic swing back to center.
The rest of the week was pretty much average. We bought a treadmill for Pam to get some exercise in the winter, and we also found out that Nessa's car seat doesn't fit very well in an Accent. Oh, and Nessa is improving her walking pretty quickly. And then last night happens.
I come home with some groceries, and Pam comes upstairs and requests some ice cream. Then, she stops short like somebody just punched her. She immediately goes to the bathroom and grabs her cocktail of drugs for a severe migraine, which includes an anti-nausea pill. She goes to bed with an ice pack, and I stay up to finish reading the rules to 1854. As I'm sitting on the toilet after getting ready for bed around 1 am, Pam bursts into the bathroom and Daves all over the bathtub. We quickly determine that, yes, this is another trip to the hospital. I get one of my neighbors up (the same that gave me a ride to the airport) to crash at our place so he can be around if Nessa wakes up, then pack up Pam. They hook her up to an IV with a pile of drugs, and by 5:30 am Pam's back in bed at home. I clean up the puke in the bathtub and go to sleep.
At 10 this morning, I call my parents and ask them to watch Nessa while we recover. After my dad picks her up, I head back to bed and sleep until 4.
So, Universe, I'm letting you know that Pam and I expect a swing back to the good any time now. Thanks.