Yeah, I said it. Fuck. My. Life.
Coming home from birthday dinner with folks, the Check Engine Soon light came on in the momvan. How festive. It idles like shit, hard to start, easy to die, but once you get some gas to it, it smooths out a bit. Took it to our handy dandy local mechanic who was going to get the codes, but guess what? His code reader doesn't ready older than 2000. Missed it by 5 years. So trying again tomorrow with an older borrowed code reader and some suggestions from Jesse in DC as to possible causes. May be without a vehicle for a few days, but the Cute Chicks can ride the bus to school. No biggie. Just a few hundred dollars and a few more ulcers.
On the way out to the garage, I go through the laundry room and hear an ominously familiar hissing coming from the hot water heater. Get the closet cover off (Gerry rigged double wide) and find an Old Faithful spewing forth from the hot water line at the tank connection. Cut the power to it, turned off the water at the main (after showering and getting Teen Queen showered) and started draining the tank to eliminate other leaks. Nope. Just the one. So, without wheels, I have to do what I hate doing, and call someone to come fix what I can easily fix myself. A quick call to Frank's Repair Plumbing (the guys drive pink white and black service trucks) and we're on the call list for tomorrow morning. A few hundred more, handful of gray hair, and I think my ulcer sprang a leak.
I'm popping antacids like M&Ms and thinking I really wished I had some of wirecutter's magic Xanax pills. I don't even have any of Mother Nature's natural stress reliever (not that I ever did, Poppy.)
Fuck. My. Life.