I have nothing astounding to post, so I will tell you about my car troubles. I was delivering newspapers for the Missourian yesterday when my vents turned on full blast.
"Well, this is certainly strange," I thought to myself. "I will just turn them off."So I turned them off, but they did not stop blowing.
"Well, maybe my car is being weird," I thought again. "I will turn my car off."So I turned my car off, but they did not stop blowing.
"Hmmm," I thought. "Is my car going to blow up?"
But it did not blow up. I took it to the dealership and talked to the man with an eyepatch (one-eyed people, even if in a temporary state, freak me out).
"Hmm," he said. "That is a very strange problem. You can leave it here or drive it home and disconnect the battery every time you turn off your car."
I left it there. I then proceeded to walk back to campus, stopping by Bearcat Express to buy a bottle of water. I decided to call Sam and tell her all about my car problems.
"Hey Sam, guess what I'm doing."
"What?" she said.
"I'm walking back to campus because my car is a piece of [expletive deleted]."
The conversation continued as I approached the corner of Walnut and Seventh.
"I just hope my backpack will stand up to the test," I said. "It's on its last leg."
Right after I uttered this statement, my backpack magically removed itself from my back.
"I'm a stupid Walmart backpack," it said (for this was indeed a magical journey). "I don't want to work anymore, so I removed my strap."
"Damn it all to hell," I said.
Proceeding quickly to Wells Hall because I was late for my newspaper meeting, I carried my bag in hand.
I bought a backpack at the bookstore (goodbye $35), and got a call from the shop this morning telling me it would cost $99 to fix my car.
Somehow, through all of this, I managed to keep on smiling and maintain a fairly cheery outlook.
That is my story.