There are few things in life that reduce me to a total babbling idiot. I can take relationship problems, medical problems, financial problems, and employment problems in stride. Car problems, on the other hand, utterly defeat me.
My trusty Ford Explorer is not doing well and, by extension, neither am I. With the upcoming book release and the end of the fiscal year at work this Friday, I simply have neither the time nor the energy to deal with it.
While I don't generally recommend denial as a coping strategy, it worked for me tonight. I pulled the car into the garage, got out and walked away. I'm going to take the bus to work tomorrow and put off thinking about repair shops until this weekend.
I'm a coward, I'll admit it. I just hate dealing with condescending males speaking what is to me a foreign language. I dislike having to ask automotive techs to speak in English when explaining my car's ailments to me, and it's worse when that request elicits a patronizing response.
Oh, well. Like Scarlett O'Hara, I'll worry about it tomorrow.