bat lady whom he hit, who immediately tried to tell him the whole thing was his fault, has some hoity-toity name, like Colleen Van Andersen Floopenheimer. Of the Madison Van Andersen Floopenheimers, you know. With a name like that, you’d think she’d be driving something better than an ’86 Olds. (Ooh, Fred’s on the phone with Geico, and they’re claiming they’re not going to pay for his car rental, because it’s more than $20 a day. He’s promising to get nasty. I love that man, love him to pieces, ’cause you KNOW if it were me I’d be going "Oh, you won’t pay? Um, okay…") I wonder how it is that I managed to miss out when everyone else was getting the nerve to stand up for themselves and be assholes when necessary? For instance, this morning, I drove my Jeep – you know, the Jeep we just spent $800 on to have all the maintenance work done on it? – to the grocery store (Lucky Charms, if you MUST know), and I was not one-tenth of a mile down the road, when the Jeep dinged at me, and announced that it was low on coolant. Hm. Coolant. Didn’t I see "coolant" on the list of thousand-and-one things they charged us for? Why looky there, yes I did! They charged $13.95 for coolant, and a scant fifteen hours later, I seem to be low on coolant. For a few seconds, I thought about driving down the road to the dealership and throwing a hissyfit. But after I talked to Fred, who told me that we had a thing of anti-freeze in the garage (me: "Anti-freeze is the same as coolant?" Duhhhh), I shrugged it off and didn’t bother to do any such thing. Which means we got GYPPED for $13.95, and I didn’t do anything about it. Because I’m a wimp. And lazy. Actually, I think that it’s my essential laziness that kept me from going to the dealership (and the fact that I didn’t want to fight the traffic to go down 72 to get there) more than my wimpiness. I have to keep up my Laziest Gal in the South title, you know.]]>