I am so mad, so peeved, so torqued off right now that I’m *thisclose* to having steam shoot out of my ears, Yosemite Sam like, only while wearing muddy jeans and fuzzy purple sweater:
My day started off okay, as okay as it can when it involves having to kiss Mr. Monkey good-bye for the next four days. He left early this morning for a conference and the baby monkey and I got ourselves dressed and out the door with a minimum of fuss (one of us pooped our pants. I’ll let you decide which one it was).
I dropped the boy off at daycare and then went to the big city to run some errands. I was planning on taking the morning off and heading to work at noon. I did my errands, unencumbered by a small child, which is always a treat.
One of my errands involved getting more milk so as to satisfy the raging milkaholic that I live with and when I went home to drop it off before coming in to work I discovered that our car was missing. The car that had been parked in front of the house (because our driveway is too muddy to park it there. It gets stuck)when I left 3 hours earlier was gone.
A quick note: the car in question is a mud covered 1999 Saturn. The blue book value on it is about $400. It has been stolen twice (!!) in the last two years.
I looked up and down the country dirt road I live on, hoping for a clue. I checked the mailbox (perhaps there’d be a note? Something that just said “Sucker!”?) and nothing. At this point I saw a slowly moving piece of heavy equipment in the distance: the road grater, laying fresh gravel to fill the divots and potholes created by the stupidly long and snowy winter.
8. Walk back to the impound lot, dump rolls of change on the desk, grab my receipt and leave, officially in a huff.
9. Drive to the county supervisors office where I spend 35 minutes trying to get the guy to explain why I am out $100 and 2 hours of time for having my car parked in a legal place when I never got any notice that it needed to be moved. He talks and talks until I finally ask “Bottom line, can you give me my $100 back?” Nope, not unless I want to petition the entire board of supervisors at the next meeting.
10. County supervisors asks where I work and what I do and when he finds out that I work at the local college, asks for help for his nephew who wants in for the fall. I am sorely tempted to tell him that I’d be glad to help. My fee for helping? $100.70 (Cash only, bitches).
Edited to add: I am glad to have the car back but I am still so peeved. Mr. Monkey and I seem to have the worst car luck and my cheap Dutch side just CAN NOT get over wasting $100. Physically painful people.