In the evenings, or after I’ve exerted myself adequately, I reward myself with a tall bottle of kombucha. I don’t know why I can’t drink it in the morning, when things are fresh. I only enjoy it truly when I can sit down and relax without guilt of things undone or nagging thoughts of how I should better spend my time. I drink it slowly, and enjoy it. I think that is the real reason I feel it gives me a flush of good feelings and health.
Today this sister earned it.
It was an amusing day (for me, because I can find amusement in the behavior of people around me in freak-out mode, somehow) at work. Busy, but unfortunately not especially productive. I worked a little late, not too much. I was rushing when I left, though, to make it home in time to pick up my CC from school, because she wanted to fix her locker up a bit after school.
My car was not cooperative. It was dead with a capital everything. DEAD. It was hot and humid outside. I had to push my car alone from its spot so that I could get a jump. I was frustrated and a little frantic trying to fix the car with a friend who kindly agreed to try to jump me, fielding calls from the hubby, trying to text the kids (get on the bus!! do not stay after school no matter what! ~ so ominous), coordinate rides and bus stop meet-ups, roadside service, and eventually a dealership appointment. Of course then in typical fashion, the tow driver made me look foolish when he easily jumped my car, and simultaneously scoffed at my friend’s car for being unable to do so. Whatever, I would much rather bring the Blueberry to the shop under her own powers.
While I was driving over, my lock buttons quit working. At this point it’s old news. I have had the car checked before, but they said they couldn’t reproduce the problem… blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda. The car has an as-yet-undiagnosed electrical problem. Whenever I bring it up, the “deflector” (aka the service rep) makes it his sole purpose in life to keep me from talking to an actual mechanic so I can’t get it fixed while my car is still under warranty. It was not the deflector’s day today. I was hot and sweaty and a wee bit high strung by the time I arrived and the bad battery was the last thing on my mind.
I refused to turn off the engine. I refused to open the door. I refused to get out of the vehicle to discuss. I demanded an actual mechanic (be brought to me while still in vehicle). They attempted to deflect me, but I was not having it. I was livid and I think I scared the service rep (who actually had the nerve to tell me that there was no way the mechanic could plug in the diagnostic tool under the dash while I was in the vehicle, which was ludicrous). They’re lucky I didn’t lay on the horn. Seriously.
After a long while, a mechanic finally came. His name was Renae and he was a Volkswagen angel sent straight from Germany. Ok, he was hispanic, but that’s neither here nor there. He plugged in the diagnostic reader under the dash (easily, btw), he ran tests. He locked and unlocked (attempted, anyhow) the doors every which way. He acknowledged that there was some major issues with my electrical. He didn’t try to make me think there wasn’t a problem. He recognized that I should be able to unlock my doors to let a passenger in the car at will. And then as he walked away, he told a coworker that there are major electrical problems in my car and he’s going to have to go through the entire thing with a fine tooth comb (yay! finally!!). And the Blueberry? She automatically locked herself up tight, with the key in the ignition. NOT COOL. Also, not supposed to happen. When she locks, she honks. Renae took note. I think maybe she was thanking Renae… or thumbing her nose at him. I’m not sure which. Tomorrow we’ll find out when Renae rips her shit apart.
I drove home in a smokers Jetta (thanks, Enterprise!), happier than I’ve probably ever been while my car is in the shop.
Tonight I drink my kombucha in peace.