Sunday afternoon, we wanted to go grocery shopping. When Jeremy started the car, it made a horrible roaring noise (much louder than usual) and other usual noises. We pulled back into the parking spot only to discover that a large portion of our exhaust system had collapsed under the car, and we were dragging it along the ground. Needless to say, it ruined my day.
We couldnt go shopping, we couldnt go to the Fox to see West Side Story, and the car required more money dumped into it. Great.
I called the nearest rental car place, which I thought was near the Medical Center, but Jeremy swore it was just a few blocks away. I reserved an economy car (Chevy Cobalt) for 7:30 am on Monday, thanked my lucky stars I didnt have to work until 12:45 and pouted the rest of the night.
The storms due to the hurricane hit around suppertime, and I didnt get much sleep. For hours on end, cop cars and firetrucks and ambulances were screaming outside of our window. By the time 7 am arrived, I was tired and crabby. It was pouring, but since Jeremy thought the place was so close, we walked toward Enterprise. And we walked. And walked. The rain pummeled us, and every third car splashed us with the puddles on the road. By the time we were fifteen minutes in, we were completely drenched. Enterprise was indeed by the Medical Center, probably one to two miles down the road. And it took us about 45 minutes to get there. I know it was a simple mistake and Jeremy felt bad, but I was fuming and raging like Mt. Vesuvius. Every bit of me was wet and pissed and bitter, and I thought my head was going to blow off my shoulders.
Enterprise wasnt ready for us, so we waited a half an hour in the Arctic office for the car. Finally, it arrived. Simple. Decent car. And quiet! You couldnt even hear that it was running. And the defrost worked, and you didnt have to climb in through the passenger door because the driver's door opened! Miracles!
I dropped Jeremy off at home, and I followed him as he drove Earl. The rain increased, and Earl's windshield was a big foggy mess. (Jeremy told me later that he could hardly see. He couldnt find any Kleenexes in the car, so he had to use a food wrapper to wipe the windshield.) We arrived at my mechanics in East Lake, only to discover that they didnt do any exhaust work. He referred us to a place way down on Moreland south, past Confederate. Argh!
Into the rain we went, clanging and roaring, cursing and dripping, until we found Muffler King. Then we proceeded to the easiest mechanic experience I've ever had in my life. Immediately they told Jeremy to pull the car into the shop. He got out, and met me inside the office. One minute later, some guy walks in. He doesnt ask us for information or give us paperwork to fill out. Instead he says, "You need a catalytic converter. It'll be $119 plus tax and it'll be done in twenty minutes." What? we ask, our faces stunned. "You need a catalytic converter. It'll be 119 plus tax and be done in twenty minutes." Uh....okay.
We drove to Happy Donut in East Atlanta, because we needed some therapeutic pastries and the soothing sound of Huey Lewis and the News on the intercom. It didnt really help, and just made us jittery, but we sat and laughed about the absurdity of how fast that all just happened. Usually we sit for six hours until they tell us that the problem will cost $900 and take two days.
By the time we drove back to Muffler King (about thirty minutes), they were indeed done and waiting for us. $137 later, we were on our way, and it was only 9:45 am. Turns out I didnt need to get the rental car at all...but how was I to know?
At noon I drove to the library and found that the entire workroom had exploded in books. We were all backed up from the weekend, and short staffed from folks being on vacation, and hurricane or not, every fucking person in the county was at the library that day. I have never seen the bomb room in such a horrendous state. We just couldnt keep up, and every customer was totally stupid and obnoxious and asked me two hundred questions. By the end of the night I was so over it. If I had been financially able, I would have quit that day. That's how upset I was.
When I got home, I couldnt find my keys. I banged on the door until Jeremy answered (interrupted from his bath) and then proceeded to bawl my head off for about thirty minutes about how much I hated my job and how the library is more physically exhausting than when I worked ten hour days at the foundry and how Im so sick of people and how Im doing a job I wasnt hired to do and how Im so bored that I just erupt in rage and every day have to battle with myself not to explode or throw a book at someone's head or scream profanities or just walk out and how my hands go numb every day because I do the same ten repetitive tasks over and over and over and how I just want to leave. He doesn't understand....I think he thinks Im just sick of customer service jobs, which I am. But its more than that. When I finally figured out what I want to do with my life, my job turns into a nightmare. Im trapped in it until I find a job in MN, which has become increasingly difficult and disheartening. We are not financially able to move without having a job lined up, and I cant afford to take under a certain salary. When I first started at the library, I loved it. I couldnt talk about it enough. I would have LIVED there, if they'd let me. And then, when they fired all of the shelvers, it just turned into a sucky, menial, factory-ish job, but with books. Now I have to figure out again what I want to do, when I really have no fucking clue. That's why I feel so messed up.