It Never Rains But It Pours

Because the inanimate objects in my life have developed the knack of all breaking down at the same time, it came as no surprise this week to learn that my car? Was broken. Actually, this happened last week. In fact, it happened on that same, doomed Sunday that saw us dealing with both The Watergate Affair and my ill-fated trip to the gym. Let’s just call that day "Black Sunday". I think the only reason I haven’t been on here whining about the car breaking was because I was trying to block it out. I mean, let’s face it, that’s how I normally deal with things.

I had been blocking out the broken car thing for quite a few weeks. See, the thing that’s broken is the exhaust. It has a hole in it. Now, I had known about this hole for some time, but I’d been employing my usual method of dealing with car problems, which is to turn the volume on the stereo up REALLY LOUD, in an effort to disguise the fact that the car sounded like it was trying to take off every time I drove somewhere in it. This technique works up to a point. That point came on Black Sunday, when I slowed down to negotiate a roundabout on the way home from the gym, and heard a noise that was not unlike gunfire.

"Hey, maybe it’s just gunfire," I thought optimistically. "Maybe it’s not the car at all!" And I reached for the volume control on the stereo and cranked it up a notch. The car, however, was determined not to be ignored this time.

"RAT-TAT-TAT!" it said, as I put my foot down. "RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!" And also? BANG!

"Aiieeeeee!" I shrieked, reaching for the volume control again.

"Ooooooh!" said Aimee Mann, from the stereo.


"OK, OK, I get it," I said. (I’m not joking about this, by the way. I really do talk to my car. It’s only polite, really.) "I will take you to the garage tomorrow."

Then I drove home, parked it in the driveway and attempted to block out the whole thing. In my defense I did end up with my finger stuck in a radiator later that night, so I think I can be excused. Maybe. After that, I decided to employ my second line of defense for dealing with Car Troubles: use Terry’s car. Again, though, this tactic will only work up to a point, and that point came today, when Terry and I made the mournful journey to the garage, where my car will be fitted with a shiny new exhaust (it freaking better be shiny, for what it’s costing), and I will have my money taken from me. I’ll get the car back tomorrow. My sanity may take a little while longer to return.

In the meantime, of course, the bathroom saga rumbles on…

So far, the bathroom has been divested of around 1/2 of its tiles. No, I really wasn’t joking when I said this project would take a while, was I? Dust is everywhere. Bits of …stuff… are everywhere. My sanity is… everywhere. See, I don’t deal well with mess. (This is pretty unfortunate, given that I live with Rubin.) Mess makes me feel claustrophobic. It makes me feel stressed. It makes me feel like taking my credit card and checking into a hotel, to be perfectly honest.

Other things that make me hate our house right now:

Mount Doom – still in situ on the living room ceiling, now fully erupted, but looking like there could be a landslide from it at any minute. (For which read: we got all the water out of the ceiling, but I still think the plaster is going to fall down.)

The San Andreas Fault – i.e. the huge crack on the floor in the hall, caused by Watergate. It’s still there, and looking worse to me by the day, although Terry still insists that no one would notice it except Eagle Eye Amber.

The Grand Canyon – i.e. the crack on the living room floor caused by Watergate. Still there, and now joined by some other, smaller gorges, which actually don’t seem to have had anything to do with Watergate, but which are just there. GOD.

I don’t know why it helps to name these things after geographical phenomenons (well, other than Mount Doom, obviously), but it does. Not as much as, say, a NEW HOUSE would help, but still.

So, basically what I’m saying is that we now need a new bathroom, new ceiling, and two new floors. Meanwhile, we went to Ikea on Sunday. To look at new kitchens. Because we are that kind of crazy.

Still, at least my car is fixed.

P.S. I write a weekly diary which goes out every Friday to my subscribers. Sign up below to get on the list...

books by Amber Eve
  • I have had a similar problem with my car…every six months or so for the past few years. Yes, holes in the exhaust, or most recently, the entire exhaust pipe rusted through and fell off. But each time they “fix it.” I’ve tried the loud music bit, but in the summer I have to drive with my windows down since my a/c also completely stopped working a couple of summers ago. (Keep in mind that summers where I live hover around 32 degrees Celsius.)

    Anyhow, good luck with the self-destruction of the house.

    January 22, 2008
  • Erik (Sorrento)


    "Hey, maybe it's just gunfire,"

    That made me laugh out loud. Sometimes I'd prefer a little road rage directed at me than to have to spend money on the car. At least you won't have that problem for the rest of the ownership of that car.

    January 23, 2008
  • Bad things happen in threes… It is true. You made me totally crack up with the gunfire remark.

    January 23, 2008
  • Your life amazes me. Also, I featured one of your Shoewawa posts over at The Winning Pitch. xoxo

    January 23, 2008