putter put put put

Hello, I’m not really feeling the desire to write yet … I’m still working through grief and still recovering from that thing that was June — and the thing that was that chest cold, the remains of which are still lurking around my bronchial passages. I have managed to to have some excellent moments so far this summer, but everything seems to be coming at some kind of cost. I am trying to be kind to myself, but all wicks and fuses are shorter than usual.

I was going to write about my new-to-me car (yes, another one) and the insane/horrible/hilarious story of trying to get the car dealer to fix a couple problems last week. However, I can’t put a spin or tone on it that would adequately convey the Groundhog Day-esque all-day disaster that included

• a small but extremely unfriendly Miniature Pinscher, left unleashed, that lunged and snapped at me — twice
• a very, very loud screaming argument in Russian that occurred post lunging/snapping — twice
• a problem that got fixed; ceased to work after I drove away; worked again when I came back; ceased to work after I drove away (status: still not working)
• a problem that got fixed and now is slowly breaking again
• a whole lot of invective by me (in English) and by car lot guy (in Russian) — hurled at each each other at high volume while I drove away for the third time
• weeping in frustration while on the phone with the Boyf at home — before two chainsaw-wielding gardeners drown out all that is good in the world with their NOISE

Besides, since I started this post, I’m feeling a lot better, mental and physical health-wise. The car situation is receding into a “you get what you pay for” shrug; someday I’ll spend enough money on a car so that I don’t get into these shenanigans. And honestly, even with the sad and the argh and the ill, this summer is great. Great! More later, probably.