The more I think about it, the more I've come to one conclusion: my mind just doesn't make any damn sense.
Friday, a simple discussion on household finances threw me into a horrible depression. I'm talking about "the entire world is doomed"/feeling weighed down by a thousand pounds of sludge/punched in the torso-level depression. Saturday, my apathetic audience threw me into a less intense but longer funk. Typical depression...the slightest tremor causes an unpredictable level of fit.
Yesterday, though, everything changed. When I got close to work, the oil pressure light in my car started blinking. On the way to grab my kid from day care, I looked at the oil pressure gauge, and it was just a hair away from the red zone. I stopped to check the oil, but it was fine. When I got home, I did some research online which was confirmed by a call to my mechanic this morning. The verdict? My car's time is swiftly approaching. It will not last through the winter. It's almost time to grab a rifle and take it behind the barn.
Surprisingly, I'm actually feeling fairly zen about the whole deal. My car is well beyond saving without investing roughly three point seven times its blue book value into the repairs. And I can by no means afford to replace it. Yet, for some reason, the prospect of taking even more debt than I have already to buy a new (to me, anyway) car I had no intention of getting has me feeling...pretty okay, actually.
The randomness of my depression often surprises me. Now...anyone got a car they want to give me?
Post a Comment