Andare, Partire, Tornare ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Wait, who told you I was a mature grownup with disposible income? Trying not to panic, and I've mostly quelled it. The Bemo and I had been looking for a car for a while, since the Neon was about to require major repairs (new clutch, new power steering pump, etc). Mom wanted us to get a truck, so we could haul stuff for her, and on those grounds, agreed to help us out with the payments (which turned into giving us two grand for a downpayment, and an offer to chip in if we got caught short one month). So after what wasn't exactly supposed to be a buying night, Bemo and I ended up driving off in a 2000 Ford Ranger pickup, which is perfectly lurverly. Realistically, it's only a little more per month than the Neon was (about thirty-five dollars) but that doesn't stop me from picturing disasters around every corner. But things so far have been going very smoothly, ranging from a non-high-pressure car salesman to an easy obtainment of a loan (despite my not loathesome but definitely not stellar credit rating) to an easy online car insurance update. So, eventually I will learn to relax, my handy finace sheet shows that I should be able to afford this all (especially with Bemo's help, although bye-bye Italy for a while, and no moving out of Zee's house either). But this is one of the biggest adult purchases I've ever made, and it's bloody terrifying! At this rate, I'll have a complete nervous breakdown if I'm ever able to buy a house. Going to try to get to Boop's opening night of the Pyjama Game tonight. But I've been fighting a headache all damn day, so I hope things go smoothly tonight. I even took yesterday off because I violently needed one, but it turned into car purchasing day so there was really no relaxation going on. God, could I be more melodramatic? But seriously, I was almost hyperventilating in the waiting room before signing the paperwork, like I was waiting for a doctor to stroll out and tell me whether I had a brain tumor or not. And I kept having to pee, which meant going into the weirdly high-tech bathrooms with a wrinkledy wrap of plastic around the seat which you pressed a button to rotate before you sat down. And Bemo was weirded out by my Grim Stress Face, which I get when I'm concentrating. Apparently at that point I look like I'm about to commit murder or have a breakdown and begin to scream random obscene phrases. But the new truck has a cd player in it and I'm wicked thrilled about that. Because I'm captivated by simple luxuries, I guess. 1:02 p.m. - 2003-03-27 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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