|12:56 pm - All is Ivan...except bookclub|
WH Smith has stopped shipping to the US.
I still won't buy from Amazon.
Trill suggested thebookplace, and that seems promising. I may also try that Scottish Import store where I bought the first 3, assuming i can find their phone number.
Tire saga: continued
So driving to dinner last night, I notice the car is handling sluggish which I've now become an expert at recognizing as a tire problem.
I stop at the gas station next store to try to fill the tire, but it doesn't seem to have any effect.
lensedsqo and I call hoppie.
( Conversation ensues (slightly trimmed down)Collapse )
We start dinner. Hoppie calls back.
( More conversationCollapse )
We finish dinner. We debate our next move. We think about taking the spare tire out. We instead move the car back to the gas station and try adding air again.
Hoppie shows up. I ask if I can take his car. He growls at me and then asks if I'll at least remove the spare tire from the trunk. Fine. Whatever.
He wants me to stand around and watch while he changes my tire.
( More conversation, longer and less politeCollapse )
Notice how he's clearly not planning to actually fix my problem. Just do enough to get by. So like a man. Argh.
So we have ( Book clubCollapse )
and the entire car ride to and from, I manage to keep up a steady stream of invectives, because I'm trying to burn off enough steam and aggression to be sweet and contrite by the time I get home.
I get home and as I pull into the garage, I realize what hoppie has known for hours. I have no way to get into the house. I gave hoppie my keys. And while he has two key rings, one for car keys and one for house keys, I don't. I only have one, which has both. So I decide I'm going to go to the front door, but I'm going to take my garage door opener from my car, so I don't have to go back into the basement to close the door. I exit the car and go to the console to close his garage and open mine when I realize the door is open. Well, that small and simple act actually did melt most of my aggression. It was so thoughtful and sweet.
I go upstairs and thank him kindly.
( Later discussion (pretty nearly accurate)Collapse )
So I took my car in this morning. They looked at both front tires, by request and resealed one and removed a screw from the other.
So I have two questions:
1. Why is it when guys do something, they expect a ticker-tape parade or something. I don't expect accolades when I pick up new pants for hoppie, or new shoes, or when I take his car in to get the oil changed. I don't make him stand around and watch while I do these things either. Why is it when he does something for me, it's a huge freaking deal? (Yes, I admit, I like a "thank you" but it really stops there.)
2. What is it with guys and half-assed solutions. You really want to help me? Deal with the problem. No stop-gaps, no half-measures, no wimpy little copouts. Just freaking fix it.
Oh, and next bookclub is Tuesday, July 19th.
|04:32 pm - Second verse, same as the first|
I'm reading back through my old posts (doing some tagging, actually) and I'm realizing, I'm no further along than I was when I started this blog. That's extremely depressing.
Also, I am one funny SOB.
Read this line: They're not lying to you, they just no have friggin' clue from right to left what their hands are doing.
Hee hee hee.
And this one: I don't know why he bothers to get huffy, it's not like it helps him better pay attention next time.
Current Mood: melancholy