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Jul. 11th, 2005 12:51 amThis afternoon, while driving to Delaware for cigarettes with Thee Pumpkin Girl, I noticed that the middle finger on my right hand suddenly and sharply hurt when I grasped the steering wheel. Peering at it, while swerving into the middle lane like a moron, I noticed that I had a small discoloured bump right under the second knuckle bend.
It's a hard, little knot right under the skin. Like a BB lodged into my flesh. Blueish, like a bruise. Since I'm not inclined towards shooting myself full of BBs, I've no idea what the hell it actually is.
A photo of the finger, despite the fact that you can barely see what I'm talking about (you can, however, see my freakish hands and how the first two fingers are even), can be found ( here )
It hurts when I press down on it and a little when I clench my fingers. At first, I thought it might be a wart (which would suck verily, due to the location, it's right on the bend of my finger), but it doesn't look like any wart I've ever seen. The Engineer says it looks like a bruise, but I've never seen a hard bruise before.
I reckon I'll just keep an eye on it, for now. I don't have any health insurance, currently, because it is cost prohibitive (yet another reason to get a new job, our health care is beyond disgustingly expensive). If it turns out that I must go to the doctor to get this taken care of, I'll have to figure something out.
To make today even better, when I was at the tobacco outlet in New Castle, my car decided it didn't want to start back up again, after being parked and shut off so that I could go into the store. I turned the key and...nothing. No clicking, no groaning of the engine, no half-way turning over. Nada. I tried it a couple more times and looked at TPG with worry. It was rather hot outside and there was a creepy homeless guy almost directly sitting in front of the car, I really did not want to be going through something wretched like a pissed off alternator or something wrong with my starter.
I got out, because it was far too hot to be sitting in the car with the windows up, and called The Engineer to let him know that we had run into a bit of trouble, then called my father. I ran through the list of questions he always asks me whenever something is wrong with car and when none of my answers turned up anything useful, began giving him directions on how to get to where we were.
He convinced me to try starting the car one more time, before he started the trek down, and I got back in. I cajoled her a bit, before turning the key, something which my father began laughing at, C'mon, baby-girl. I take back every bad thing I've ever said about you. You're not ghetto at all, I swear. You're the best Caddy in the world. then hit the ignition.
Disco! It started!
After a bit of grumbling, of course. But, she started. I guess my sweet-talking worked. Yet another thing I'm going to have to keep an eye on. Hopefully, everything will be ok when I go to leave for work in the morning. I can't even drive the Malibu if I put the Eldorado in the shop, because my brother left for North Carolina today and either has the car, or has it parked at his friend's house. So, if she needs to go into the shop, it'll be me begging for rides to and from work all week, or until I get her back.
How fucking depressing.
On the drive back from Delaware, I day-dreamed about scrapping this beast and buying an old Hearse. Something, I reckon, which would be a lot like jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire.
To liven things up a bit, here's a photo of Simon, doing what he does best: being fat and cute.
( Simon, the Stout )
It's a hard, little knot right under the skin. Like a BB lodged into my flesh. Blueish, like a bruise. Since I'm not inclined towards shooting myself full of BBs, I've no idea what the hell it actually is.
A photo of the finger, despite the fact that you can barely see what I'm talking about (you can, however, see my freakish hands and how the first two fingers are even), can be found ( here )
It hurts when I press down on it and a little when I clench my fingers. At first, I thought it might be a wart (which would suck verily, due to the location, it's right on the bend of my finger), but it doesn't look like any wart I've ever seen. The Engineer says it looks like a bruise, but I've never seen a hard bruise before.
I reckon I'll just keep an eye on it, for now. I don't have any health insurance, currently, because it is cost prohibitive (yet another reason to get a new job, our health care is beyond disgustingly expensive). If it turns out that I must go to the doctor to get this taken care of, I'll have to figure something out.
To make today even better, when I was at the tobacco outlet in New Castle, my car decided it didn't want to start back up again, after being parked and shut off so that I could go into the store. I turned the key and...nothing. No clicking, no groaning of the engine, no half-way turning over. Nada. I tried it a couple more times and looked at TPG with worry. It was rather hot outside and there was a creepy homeless guy almost directly sitting in front of the car, I really did not want to be going through something wretched like a pissed off alternator or something wrong with my starter.
I got out, because it was far too hot to be sitting in the car with the windows up, and called The Engineer to let him know that we had run into a bit of trouble, then called my father. I ran through the list of questions he always asks me whenever something is wrong with car and when none of my answers turned up anything useful, began giving him directions on how to get to where we were.
He convinced me to try starting the car one more time, before he started the trek down, and I got back in. I cajoled her a bit, before turning the key, something which my father began laughing at, C'mon, baby-girl. I take back every bad thing I've ever said about you. You're not ghetto at all, I swear. You're the best Caddy in the world. then hit the ignition.
Disco! It started!
After a bit of grumbling, of course. But, she started. I guess my sweet-talking worked. Yet another thing I'm going to have to keep an eye on. Hopefully, everything will be ok when I go to leave for work in the morning. I can't even drive the Malibu if I put the Eldorado in the shop, because my brother left for North Carolina today and either has the car, or has it parked at his friend's house. So, if she needs to go into the shop, it'll be me begging for rides to and from work all week, or until I get her back.
How fucking depressing.
On the drive back from Delaware, I day-dreamed about scrapping this beast and buying an old Hearse. Something, I reckon, which would be a lot like jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire.
To liven things up a bit, here's a photo of Simon, doing what he does best: being fat and cute.
( Simon, the Stout )