New Car Time!

I'm a little late with this blog because things have been so busy lately.  It actually happened back on August 3rd.  Yep, I bought myself a new car. Okay, not actually new, but new to me. I will never buy another new car in my lifetime unless I win the lottery, and there's not much chance of that happening.   I don't play the lottery.

It was a Craigslist deal. I generally like Craigslist deals, but not when they involve lots of money. It makes me nervous.  A person can only do so much inspection of what they're buying. The rest is left up to trust of the person selling it and your level of acceptance. I haven't had it long enough for anything wrong to surface, nor have I had it long enough to find that something was hidden or covered up by the seller. I hope there is nothing of course, but it always takes time to get to a level of relaxation with a used car. At least it does for me.

It's a 2003 Honda Civic LX. It's fully equipped, LX-wise, and completely beautiful condition. 132,000 miles on the body, and 80,000 on the engine. I bought the car from a young guy (I'm guessing 23-25 years old) that works at the Honda dealership. He put a warranted used engine in it after giving it a new timing belt, water pump, and other assorted replacement parts ("all genuine Honda parts" he assured me). He said it was his girlfriend's car and she ran the original engine out of oil. He was not a very good liar though--I think he just got a sweet deal on a trade-in because it had a bad engine. The car is virtually like new everywhere. The only signs of wear at all are a few spots on the removable floor mats. Under the car, the trunk, the interior--all in fantastic shape.

I hate buying cars.

The deal came close to not going down. The car was in Bellingham, and that's a two-hour drive north of here.  After many texts and a few emails, we arranged to meet at the Lowe's store near his place because it appeared that by the time we got there it would be nearly dark.  I don't like buying a car from a private party when I can't see their home, but I pushed that aside this time.  I had been looking for a new car for quite a while and wanted this one to be 'the one'.  I told the guy we should be there about 9pm at the latest.  When we went through Everett at about 7:30 (still about an hour from him) I texted him and told him so.  He replied with something like, "Oh, I didn't think you would be here until 9."  Hmm.  He knows damn well what transpired because it was all on his phone in the form of text messages.  I reminded him of all that.  When we were near his area I again texted him.  He replied with something like, "Ok, um, I just wanted you to be aware that I've got another guy interested in the car and he may be there when you arrive."  What the hell?  It was like his story kept changing.  Both me and Suz fussed and fumed over that as we neared the meeting place.  When we got there he was nowhere to be seen.  I texted him.  "Oh, I'll be there in five minutes."  Again, he story changed.  We waited there over 20 minutes for him to show up.  We texted him multiple times, one of which was to the point, "Is this deal going to happen?"  No reply.  Sue had already told me a couple times up to that point, "We've driven a long way--give him some more time."  After another 10 minutes I said, "Screw it, let's go."  We had been waiting 30 minutes at that point.  We we were just about to the freeway we got a text from him apologizing.  "I was halfway there and had forgotten the title" he said.

I liked the car.  It looked as good in person as it did in the ad pictures.  The interior color turned out to be a tan when I expected to see light gray.  The pictures in his ad sort of threw me the wrong direction I guess.  Still, I wasn't put off by that detail.  Anyway, I liked the car and bought it.  I spent the drive home just "feeling" the car out--checking anything and everything.  I was pleasantly surprised to find that the gas gauge had barely moved after filling it up in Bellingham before heading south for the 2-hour drive home.

After owning the car for only a week and a half, what do we do?  What else?  Road trip!  Kind of a bold move for sure--especially given the nature of the trip.  Driving an "untested and unknown" car to Wendover, Utah in the middle of August was ballsy.  So we've returned from our trip and have put the car through its paces.  The results?  The mileage:  Phenomenal.  We got a couple of tanks in the high 30's, and two tanks that were over 42mpg!  The AC worked great and kept us comfy.  The cruise was so nice to have too.  The stock Honda sound system sucks pretty bad and let us down, but that wasn't much of a surprise.  The engine seemed to develop a little noise that made me nervous for a while.  It never got worse.  I get the impression that nothing new happened, but rather, possibly an additive that might have been masking the sound up until that time finally wore off.  It's a theory.  I changed its oil yesterday and put in full synthetic oil.  I've never put that in a car before because it's so expensive (and it makes leaky cars leak even more because it's so slippery) but I thought I'd go for it and see how it does.  Time will tell.

Was the car a good deal?  No.  It as a fair deal.  It was a great car for the money, but it was still a lot of money.  To me, a good deal is when I practically steal something.  It's just that cars of this type and year are hard to find in good shape, and this was was what I was looking for.  I hope it will serve me well and translate into a good deal.

It's safe to say it's the fanciest car I've ever owned in terms of options.  Power everything, AC, cruise control, and all--it's way more than I've ever had.  My cynical nature tells me, "It's just more to go wrong" while my optimist side (it's a much smaller side) tells me, "Shut up and enjoy it."

One thing is for sure:  I am loving the 40+ mpg!

Here are pictures from the guy's Craigslist ad.  Even though you can click them and view them full size, they're not very big.  Still, you can get an idea what it looks like.  You can also see what I meant when I mentioned the interior color in the ad pictures.

Stalwart No More

The vehicle previously known the "Famously worn (but stalwart) Neon" has been officially retired. It has weathered a lot of ups and downs in its life, but it's finally crossed over the line I have drawn in the sand. On one side of the line is "repair" and on the other side is "move on". The Neon left us a couple weeks ago, lovingly embraced (okay, pushed actually) by the whole family that came to check it out. It went for a whopping $300.

The bright red Neon was bought In June of 1994 to replace the bright red 1963 Ford Falcon Futura that my ex was driving as her daily driver at the time. The Falcon was a "one-owner" car I bought from a grandson that inherited it from his grandma. That is a car I wish I never sold, but then--isn't that always the way it goes?
"It hurts my back." she complained. (True, car seats were mushy ad non-supportive back then.)
"But its a classic. It's in great condition. It's beautiful!" I kept trying. Finally I gave in and started researching cars. The Neon was new on the scene and there was something about it that intrigued me. After much reading and investigating, we ended up buying one. Titled as a 1995, it was almost the exact same color as the Falcon: Bright red. The Neon was her car. It was bought to be her car. Sure, I got to drive when we as a family went anywhere, but it was hers.

That was 18 years ago. In its 148,000 or so (I forgot to look before it left) mile life with me and my family members it has been through a lot. It's been to California several times, Utah a couple times, and lots and lots of smaller trips and exploration. Yes, throughout the years the Neon has been to many, places. Look how nice and new it looked when I bought my Harley back in 2003.

Like any car, the Neon got a little tired over the years. At one point Teresa's parents gave her 20k to spend. It was both a gift and a way of reducing their taxes that year. I don't remember the details, but I do remember researching yet another car for her. This time she got a 2001 Nissan Altima. That meant the Neon was "mothballed" in the garage. I don't think it was driven for about six months. I was driving a Datsun 200SX commuter car I bought from a gal after she bought it back from the insurance company (it had been stolen and recovered). I paid $200 for it and drove it for over 100,000 miles before it started to suffer catastrophic degradation that made fixing it non-worthwhile. I sent it down the road (for $50 more than I paid for it!) and rolled the Neon out into the daylight. Admiring it with a fresh, new eye I gave it a fresh dose of pride and interest and made it my new car. I cleaned and scrubbed it and made it shine like the day it was bought--inside and out.

Over the years the Neon has been through a lot of health issues too. Some normal--some not. It was vandalized once as it sat sleeping in our driveway one night. The bored low-lifes shattered the windshield and drivers window by beating them with steel water meter cover from the sidewalk in front of our house. Another time it was tagged with a large "CK" spray painted across the entire hood. (We moved after the second episode.) It blew a head gasket one time, causing it to overheat on me in downtown Seattle. During its life it had gone through the usual tires, batteries, and other normal items, and like the head gasket/timing belt/water pump repair, I did them all myself. I even did a heater core replacement myself, and as you can see in this picture, it was not for the faint of heart.

The Neon even weathered the change in my marital status, and after I remarried the Neon carried us on many, many adventures. It was so good at showing up in pictures that we took as we explored the many roads of our state and country. It was hard to keep it out of the pictures because after all--it ferried us there. It was our dependable steed that took us everywhere.

The major event in its life occurred the time it got rear ended while sitting at a stop light a few years ago. That caused the insurance company to declare it totaled. They paid me handsomely for the car (about $2000), and then let me buy it back from them for about $80. The Neon was never quite the same after that though. It was plagued by a water leak somewhere up under the dash that proved near impossible to get stopped.

It's a sad thing when you go around your car of 18 years and remove your possessions from it. All the things that make it your own: stripped away with a sense of resignation and finality. I have no regrets about buying it way back then, but I don't think I ever really thought I would be signing its 'organ donor' card this far down the road in its life. Most people don't keep cars anywhere near that long.

The people that bought it led me to believe it would live again instead of being taken apart and sold off in pieces. I think they were somewhat surprised at the condition it was in given its age.

I hope it makes it's future owners as happy as it made its original owners.

Reunions? Really?

I heard a couple of guys on the radio mention this a few weeks ago and it made me think:  Do we really need high school reunions any more?

This is not the era of our youth. These are different times. This is not the era when sending a letter or postcard through the mail was the only other way to communicate personally with someone besides calling them on the telephone.

This is a time where we can suffer the same ridicule, taunts, and humiliation all right from the comfort of our own computer!

Nobody can hide any more. Nowadays, someone somewhere knows where everybody is. if we don't know, someone we know does. If we choose to, we can even pay a little money for the privilege of being able to access the personal data of anyone we want.

So do we really need reunions any more?

Friends that are tight already know everything that's going on in each others' lives. Why should they want to spend the time, money, and energy to meet up with people they could really care less about? Just to see how fat they have gotten or how much hair they've lost?

Facebook provides us with all the info we need to keep the current distance between acquaintances at a comfortable level. If you want to trade pictures of your families it's a snap. You want to chat with each other live? It's there too. You want to brag, preach, be inquisitive, or lurk in the shadows? You can.

If email and Facebook aren't enough, there's Skype. Who could have imagined back when we were in school that we'd be able to video chat with someone anywhere, anytime?

Well we can, so why do we still need reunions?

Oh wait--I know--it's so we can yell ourselves hoarse trying to make ourselves heard in a bar that has horrible acoustics. Oh, it's also so the women that are upstanding citizens and doting mothers can be hit on and leered at by newly-single guys with Corvettes and Viagra.  Oh, it's so we can be reminded that some people never will learn to drink responsibly.

Oh, yeah--all those things. Who needs reunions these days anyway?

Okay, there are good things about reunions.  I think my favorite part (although sad) of my 30-year reunion was the video montage someone made that showed all the classmates that were no longer with us.  Sadly, it played quite a while, and was punctuated with gasps and other sounds of sad realization.  There are also the anecdotes of current lives and past adventures to share.  I liked overhearing people explaining about how they got so far in life or why they didn't.  It's also funny to watch how much some people never change--they still can't stop doing the one-upmanship.

[sigh] Sure, I'll probably go to the next reunion.  I guess I can't resist.  What I doubt I will do any more though, is go to the more localized get-togethers or mini-reunions that tend to pop up from time to time.  They are too loud for me to talk to anyone.  I hate that.  My voice can't take it and I always have to leave early and frustrated because of it.

No, we don't need high school reunions these days.  The trouble is, they're like a train wreck or a building fire--we can't resist looking to see how bad someone looks or who didn't make it.

Party Jello... With a Kick!

I had a great idea for a party item the other day at work.

Marc and I were talking. The whole thing started off with him trying to find someone to get him some more Dixie cups that he needed to mix up some paint or glue in. Somehow, the conversation immediately evolved in the topic of Jello shots. Everyone knows that Jello shots and Dixie cups go hand in hand, right? Well, we went from just general talk about jello shots to the trouble with jello shots coming out of the cup. I related an anecdote about someone that made a bunch of jello shots in cups that were just a little too deep for someone with an average length tongue to be able to cleanly remove from the cup.

Then it hit me.

What if someone combined one of those party poppers that you pull with a string with a jello shot? You would up-end the shot into your mouth, pull the string, and *POP* Instantly, a wad of tangy, booze-laden jello bounces off the back of your throat!

Imagine the party possibilities! Imagine the possible lawsuits! No wait...

I think all you'd have to do is a little unauthorized surgery and you'd e good to go. Open em up, remove the little wheels of colored paper (they'd get stuck in your throat most likely), and do a 'cookie cutter' thing with it in a pan of pre-made jello.

I think I'm onto something here... With a disclaimer and release if liabilty included on every package of course.

 

The Musical Awakening

I wonder when music stopped being just "cool" and started being real enjoyment?  When did it stop being a narrow category of cool and turn into a broad spectrum of culture and enjoyment?

I've always enjoyed music.  My parents always had a radio playing or an album on the turntable.  Whenever we stopped in at the Valu Mart my dad would end up in the record department shopping for some kind of album that caught his eye.  Although I didn't much care for the stuff I was subjected to back then, some of it stuck.  For example, I love the song, Apache by Jorgen Ingemann.  Some of the stuff by the Ventures come to mind also.

The fact that we kids were subjected (forced) to take band all through school really doesn't fit into the picture.  Sure, I learned music, played music, and was immersed in music.  I'm not talking about that kind of music.  I'm talking about popular music. Real music.  The kind people spend money on.

When I was in school, it was not acceptable to listen to Motown.  At least within my circle of what I perceived as cool it wasn't.  Looking back on it, I believe it was all in my mind.  I had no role models or older brother to look up to.  I had to forge my own path.  Back then only rock music was cool.  I didn't want any potential friends to know that I liked watching Soul Train as much as I liked watching Where the Action Is or American Bandstand.  The truth is, I blew a lot of years living with my head in the sand.  The Temptations singing Papa Was a Rolling Stone is one of my favorites and has been for years.  Ditto anything by Tower of Power.  I could go on and on.  I think part of me was ashamed.  I totally loved rockin' out to Jimi Hendrix, Grand Funk Railroad, and Led Zeppelin and other total rock music of the era (and still do).  The "Motown Sound" just didn't fit with that line of thinking. I must have had myself thinking I had to choose between Yin and Yang.

I was not a leader--I was a follower.  I was not a free thinker--I was a copycat.

When I bought an album I didn't buy it for the album.  I bought it for a song on the album.  I would find myself listening to that song and nothing but that song.  I didn't even care to listen to a live version of a hit song because to me it was not the hit version everybody was supposed to love.  It wasn't just right.

I don't know where I got all that thinking.  Maybe it was my parents--I dunno.

At some time in my life I saw the light.  I pulled my head out of the sand and held it high.  I admitted to the world, "Screw you--I listen to only one kind of music:  GOOD music."  Anyone that knows me knows that my perception of 'good music' is all over the map.  At some point I stopped caring what people might think if they heard me listening to certain things.  It was during this awakening that I learned how much I really like Crazy by Patsy Cline, Sweet Dreams (or anything else for that matter) by the sweet voice of Roy Orbison.  So many years.

I've found that this is why I like listening to Radio Paradise.  It plays and eclectic mix that I like.  It plays the obscure, the unknown, and the unappreciated.  It also plays plenty of hits--don't get me wrong.  I just love it when I "discover" something that was there under my nose all these years and I gleaned over it because it wasn't 'cool enough' for me to appreciate it.

Well, I appreciate it now.

The Covington Taco Saga

So it was nearing dinner time. Sue worked hard all day in the yard and she was in no mood for cooking anything. We had each received our monthly code for a free movie rental from Red Box yesterday too, so I suggested we go out and kill two birds with one stone. (I had already gotten my free movie on the way home from work.)

In retrospect, we should have stayed home.

When we got to the Red Box kiosk, she found that her phone was dead. Her phone contained both the code for the free movie as well as her personal list of potential movies to rent. She plugged it in with her car charger, but it was really dead so we opt to get food first.

My suggestion of Subway didn't work for her so we decided on Taco Bell. Our local Covington Taco Bell is one of those "half-n-half" restaurants with the other half being KFC. As we neared the place, I reminded her of my bad experience at this very Taco Bell a couple years earlier while she was in Kauai. I had gotten the shrimpiest tacos I had ever gotten in my life, but she didn't want to hear it.
"I've eaten here lots of times. We're not going to stop going here because you had one bad experience." she said adamantly. (She says almost everything adamantly.)

We drove through the drive-up window and ordered 6 tacos and 4 bean burritos. Pretty simple. As we left the window, I counted the items to make sure they were all there. Then she wondered aloud why it cost so much. In her mind it should have been under 10 dollars. She continued around to the other side and parked. She walked inside to check prices. She got back in the car with the answer.
"$1.19!" she said, "They used to be 89 cents!."

We went back over to the Red Box and she got her free movie and we went home.

When we got back home we went into the kitchen and I started dividing things up. Imagine my surprise when I opened a taco and found that it was literally less than half filled. I opened another one. Same thing. All six tacos were a joke. I was pissed. That reaffirmed it--I was never going to that restaurant again. What surprised me was Suzie's reaction when I showed her.

She looked at them in disbelief.

"That is totally unacceptable. We're going back." she said. (Yes, adamantly.) I was surprised. I never know how she is going to react and I almost always mis-gauge either the level or direction of her reaction. I expected she would sigh, shrug her shoulders, and say something like, "I guess we'll have to stop going to that Taco Bell." Not this time. I was mad about it (it was my second time ripped off after all) but she was really mad.

"Get your camera and take a picture." she said.

We exchanged plenty of dialogue between us both in the kitchen and during the drive back about how completely ridiculous it was to sell someone a taco with an inch of filling (that included everything) in it for a $1.19. There was tension in the car as we drove back. I couldn't believe that I failed to check them before we came home.

We went in and walked up to the counter. I spoke to the nearest girl behind the counter.
"Excuse me..." I said, to get her attention, "Is your manager in?" I asked.
"Yes, would you like me to get him?" she asked back.
"Yes, please." I didn't quite get why anyone would ask the question she asked, but maybe they are trained to be the first line of defense when it comes to protecting their store manager. Why else would I have asked her? Taking a 'How many managers are on the premises in fast-food restaurants' poll perhaps?

He came out of his office and over to the counter. His last name was Senti I believe. I wished I would have written his name down. [UPDATE: his name was Sethi]
"Is there a problem?" he asked, completely stone-faced.
I opened the bag and opened several of the tacos.
"These are unacceptable. I can't believe you would sell me a taco that looks like this for $1.19."
He looked through the bag like he was counting or something.
"What did you order?" he asked.
"I ordered six tacos and four bean burritos!" I said, my voice rising.
He dropped the bag into the trash in front of him.
"We'll replace them for you. I do apologize, sir." he said. His face never even neared a smile. He walked over to his staff on the other side of the room and gave them some instructions, then disappeared back into his office. Sue went back out to the car to wait.

During the course of my waiting I exchanged a few comments with other customers waiting. I told the one guy, "If you're getting tacos, you'd better look at em."

After waiting a few minutes, Mr. Senti Sethi came back to the counter with a bag. Again, he had the same stone-faced and insincere delivery.
"Here you go sir. I do apologize sir."
I opened the bag and inspected the contents. What?! The tacos were just as puny as before. Did he not get it? Is that their normal taco size? I opened them in front of him and held them out.
"What is this? These are not acceptable. These tacos should be full. I paid for tacos, not 'partially-filled' tacos." The nearby customers took some notice as this was going on. Mr. Senti looked at them like he really didn't see what the problem was. I continued:
"I have eaten at Taco Bell restaurants for many years and have never seen this. This is ridiculous."
He seemed both unconcerned and confused as to his next move, so I helped him out.
"Give me my money back please. I'm finished." I said, firmly.
Again, he dropped the bag into the trash in front of him.
"I do apologize sir." he said as he walked away.

The nearby customers I had already exchanged comments with were taking it all in as well.

He handled it poorly. It cost him two full orders of food tossed in the trash and he alienated at least the two of us as customers. What he should have done was replaced the four tacos with full ones and refunded our meal. It's how you keep customers happy.

We took our refund to Arby's and had roast beef sandwiches instead. Full roast beef sandwiches.

To top it all off, the movie she chose was so riddled with F-bombs (she investigated it on IMDB before she burned it) she opted to leave it alone.

Time Spackle

Where do you start when you haven't blogged in a long time and so many things have happened?  It's been so busy around here that it seems like the days have run into weeks and now they're well on their way of running into months since I have blogged last.

The activity level has been strange.  The times when I haven't been just busy with regular (I'm beginning to wonder what 'regular' is anymore) stuff it seems there was always something of some kind cropping up unexpectedly.  Something to do, someone coming over, or somewhere to go seemed to always be happening.  Obviously, it started with the previously-mentioned water heater fiasco.  Having just arrived back from Kauai and expecting a week away from obligations of any kind, I was greeted instead with solid work.  That was, of course, on top of the frantic pace of things at work.  During that week, the water heater job used all my spare time.  While I wish I was blessed with lots of gaps in my time, I was instead cursed with spackle.  I'm going to call it Time Spackle.  It filled in any and all gaps I may have had in my day.

When that job was completed I expected that I would be able to catch up at work but that hasn't happened very quickly.  There was always something unexpected filling in my workday time and keeping me from focusing on catching up on my material receiving job.  During much of the previous weeks, my job was spackled together with unusual levels of kitting up assembly jobs, preparing items for UPS shipment, and even doing some delivery/pickup tasks in the work truck.  For three solid weeks the level of paperwork in my inbox rose.  Once a week I would get a fairly substantial delivery from our main supplier, to which I would quip, "Damn--I still haven't touched what you brought me last week!"  I feel that I am just now (finally) catching up from what I came back to after taking two weeks off for vacation.  My definition of vacation: Taking time to stop working so your workload can accumulate and cause you even more anguish.  It has definitely been that.  On top of that, my usual work has been punctuated with checking and repairing things that were done in my absence.

We went to Ocean Shores a couple weekends ago.  That was the first example of a prearranged weekend event being Time Spackle to my preferred gappy weekend.  I had no warm fuzzies going into that weekend.  I'll put it bluntly:  I didn't want to go.  I had been working hard and the last thing I felt like doing was cramming into a dormitory situation with a house full of people for a weekend.  Luckily it ended up being a good time.  The rented house was huge and nobody got in anybody's way.  In a previous incarnation it was apparently a corner store so it had plenty of bedrooms, bathrooms, and floor space.  For example, it had three tables we could sit at to eat or play games--either separated or pushed together banquet-style.  Because JW's don't celebrate birthdays, Christmas, or other mainstream obligatory gift-giving days, Sue likes to use the annual family chaos weekend at Ocean Shores as her gift-giving time.  It was during that weekend that Sue gave me an advance anniversary gift:  A new iPad 3 tablet!  That was totally unexpected and I was blown away.  I brought nothing for her and felt bad.  It was not actually our anniversary yet, so it didn't occur to me to have anything ready.  My head is very thick bone.

For the next several days, investigating and shopping were my Time Spackle.  I should have been working overtime but instead was hitting stores on the way home--looking for an elusive item on my shopping list that Sue wanted.  Again I felt like such a bonehead--because the first item I had ordered for her was coming from Hong Kong, and I failed to order it in time for it to arrive by the proper date.  When it was finally our anniversary (June 6th) I presented her with her main gift:  A box of computer parts.  For for our 3rd anniversary I gave her a brand new computer.  Why didn't I put it together and give it to her?  Because I needed to use two parts out of her current computer in it.  I also thought the box full of smaller flashy boxes looked more exciting.  In retrospect, I should have probably just built what I could and given it to her.  Oh well.  We celebrated that evening with a great dinner at Mizu, personally cooked and served with flourish before our very eyes by a talented food and cutlery juggler.  I caught the piece of flying scrambled egg in my mouth like I had been doing it all my life.

Last weekend could have been relaxing.  Saturday was a big JW event in Puyallup which of course Sue was attending.  I could have had all day to do nothing.  Instead, her new computer was the Time   Spackle of that day.  After spending the whole day with it (formatting a new drive and installing Windoze XP takes a lot of time), I had to face the realization that the new motherboard was no good.  What should have taken half the day, tops, took all day because I didn't give up on it.  I tried everything.  Because the computer store wasn't open on Sunday, it gave us some time to ponder things.  We decided that we would make the jump to Windows 7 during the upgrade.  I didn't know it at the time, but I found that Windoze XP had a RAM limit of 4 gigs, and I had bought 8 gigs for her new machine.  To maximize the performance of her new machine we had to face the fact that it was time to retire the pirated version of Windoze XP that I had been using since 2001.  Monday after work I exchanged the bad motherboard.  When I got home and started to put it all back together I realized I had mistakenly put all the packets of screws and mounts into the box with the bad motherboard I had exchanged.  (Like I said: Thick bone.)  I hurriedly sped back to Federal Way in yet another example of filling the chinks in my day with Time  Spackle--This time self-inflicted.  When I got home I contacted someone on Craigslist that was selling Windows 7 for $50 and arranged to meet her the following day.  After waiting for her to show up at the prearranged location (yep, more Time Spackle) I called her.  She apologized and actually delivered it to our house a couple hours later.  That was good.  The speed in which Windows 7 installed on her new computer was so fast it actually chipped away at some of my Time  Spackle.  I may have actually regained half a day it was so fast.  That was also good.

It's not over yet.  Upcoming weekends are still mapped.  Time  Spackle apparently must be used before it expires.

I sometimes long for the days when my life was so full of holes that I didn't even know what Time  Spackle was.