Sunday, January 09, 2005

frigid temps + crappy car + car horn = a recipe for trouble

**I wrote this on 12/21/04.

Last night, I went to bed abut 11:30, and put my earplugs in because Brett was still up and had music on. I went to sleep.
At about 5 a.m., the phone rang. In my sleepy stupor, I ran to try to find the phone, and answered it on the 4th ring. It was a man who said,
"Kathleen?"
"Yeah?" I answered, very confused.
"I think that's your car horn."
"Huh?"
"I think that noise is your car horn."
And that's when I realized that it was my neighbor calling and that my car horn was just continuously honking, VERY VERY loudly.
I ran downstairs looking for my shoes, rememberd they were upstairs, grabbed them and ran outside in the sub-zero weather to my car, where I proceeded to bang on the steering wheel until the noise stopped.
I went back inside and went upstairs, my lungs burning from the frigid air and my body shaking from the cold and adrenaline. Brett was asleep again by the time I got back inside.
It took me forever to go back to sleep...maybe 45 minutes. All the time, I was thinking that the police were going to come and give me a ticket and my neighbors would hate me and why oh why can't I have a normal car, not even a nice car, just a normal one.
At 6:45, I was awakened AGAIN by the freaking horn. I got up, went outside and started hitting the steering wheel really hard. It wouldn't go off...I could get it to stop for a second but then it kept going. Finally, it stopped and I went back to bed. I had to get up in about an hour and I never really went back to sleep.
Then, I went out to my car to go to work and the damn door was frozen shut. I could open it when it was -5 and in the middle of the night, but now that I have to go to work, of course it wouldn't open.
I finally got it, nearly breaking the freaking handle in the process. (Remember, this is the only working door on the car, so if I break it, I'm screwed.)
Anyway, Brett didn't get why I was so upset about the car horn. He was laughing and I was practically bawling. He gave a typical male response: "You're acting like the car is a person you're mad at. There's nothing you can do right now, so why worry?" Oh, gee, I don't know -- maybe because we live in Maine and our neighbors probably have shotguns and will probably kill us if it happens again.
Even if I am really pissed about all of this I will admit it is pretty freaking funny. Oh well...someday, maybe, I will have a nice car. (Or at least one with two working doors, a gas gauge that works, and a horn that doesn't go off in the middle of the night).

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