Why I'm smiling.
Today (well, yesterday, but technically, in My Book, the day doesn't change over until one's idea-teeming head hits one's barely-used pillow) I meandered into a newer and better Subaru dealer with a dollar and a dream (OK, really a bit more than a dollar... and an abused vehicle) and left with a Deal. I think my powers of positive thought persuaded these nice saleswomen that I'm wonderful and deserve all good things, including a brand new car for perusing and abusing for a little while.
Either that or they're nincompoops. Kindly nincompoops.
Went there with beau to get a replacement side mirror (as I'm sure I reported the former side mirror was dangling after I thought I might be running over a homeless man's body wrapped in carpeting), blank check from Auto Guru Pal's business in hand. Left with a mirror. And aforementioned Deal.
I got them/saleslady nincompoops to toss in a gas card, free foot massages for a year and a cd player. I'm unfortunately lying about the foot massages.
When I returned to Auto Guru Pal's repair centre I told him about the Deal. He said Well, now that I know you're getting a new car, let's go out into the lot, walk around the car and laugh at all the damage you caused it. His skilled Auto Guru eyes noted every milimeter of despair, destruction and plain old shitty luck. And we laughed heartily.
The world is never more cheery than when Perfect Nancy gets her way and gets her self into a newer and shinier vehicle.
First cd to be played in new car. An important decision. Perhaps REM to ensure the vibes are wholesome/vegetarian (= no roadkill under wheels), from the south (= no rust on the newness) and full of indecipherable words (= Murmur for secret Zenlike chants).