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This year ends on a difficult note, as my car is sitting in the shop right now. What began as a routine oil change has turned into brake repair and the replacement of a very expensive timing belt. I keep reminding myself that the knee jerk reaction of despair and horror is just a shadow of years past. We have savings and can pay for these things, it isn't the end of the world the way it was for me ten or fifteen years ago. But I am anxious and crazy not having my car and being able to do all things the way I would on my own.
The thing that makes me most irritable is that my father's car is (still) sitting in front of my house but I can't legally drive it around. Sometimes I wish I had never taken up the responsibility of dealing with my father's estate. There is no reward in it, no financial gain or moral victory or satisfaction. Just a lot of headaches and sadness and anger and endless waiting for the courts to go through their slow motions.
It seems appropriate, given that my father and I had a history of car issues. He bought me my first car, which I was properly ungrateful for all those years.
There are a lot of things I wish I knew or understood. But there's no going back.
Instead of doing things in the bright, sunny cold I will sit here and listen to music too loudly on my headphones. Like Shakespeare's Sister and a weirdly wonderful nightcore version of the latest Combichrist song. I am too tired today for my rage.
I'm ready to put this year behind me. I certainly haven't resolved it or dealt with the things that made it so hard and insane, but I'm done right now.
The thing that makes me most irritable is that my father's car is (still) sitting in front of my house but I can't legally drive it around. Sometimes I wish I had never taken up the responsibility of dealing with my father's estate. There is no reward in it, no financial gain or moral victory or satisfaction. Just a lot of headaches and sadness and anger and endless waiting for the courts to go through their slow motions.
It seems appropriate, given that my father and I had a history of car issues. He bought me my first car, which I was properly ungrateful for all those years.
There are a lot of things I wish I knew or understood. But there's no going back.
Instead of doing things in the bright, sunny cold I will sit here and listen to music too loudly on my headphones. Like Shakespeare's Sister and a weirdly wonderful nightcore version of the latest Combichrist song. I am too tired today for my rage.
I'm ready to put this year behind me. I certainly haven't resolved it or dealt with the things that made it so hard and insane, but I'm done right now.
