Nobody Born Today

Okay, so nobody in my birthday calendar.  Sheesh.

I had a strange dream, from which I woke I thought for the day, only to be so cold I bundled up and fell back to sleep for almost 3 more hours.

My car had work done at what looked like a tiny garage at the intersection of 123, 106 and Bay Road in Easton (AKA Easton Five Corners).  At the same time, it also reminded me of the much larger Bob’s Garage, now Davis Automotive, in Halifax.  During the two interludes between his body shop burning down and being rebuilt, my father conducted business out of three bays worth of that building.

The car in question either was my Sentra, or resembled it.  My father delivered me there to pick it up, driving a maroon boat of a car, something like an older Cadillac or Oldsmobile.  If he’s ever driven something like it, it’s been decades.  He then pulled around the back, in my peripheral awareness.

I was expecting the work to have cost $200, and had $300 on me, though really I couldn’t afford to pay out that much.  Funny, $300 is what’s needed toward rent Friday, and $200 is what’s most readily available toward it, though really it’s another $50 that needs to come from somewhere else, and there’s another $225 needed to keep utilities on another month.  Anyway, I was anxious about the cost, but sure I had it covered at its worst.

The more recent garage guys we’ve dealt with in the past several years have been skinny and Lebanese or Italian.  Instead, this was my childhood image of the hefty, if not downright fat, localized American of diluted European descent.  Kind of like the late Bob of Bob’s Garage, who dropped dead around my age, or the owner of Anderson’s junkyard, where they were shocked by Bob’s death when I happened to go there shortly after.  Bob Castle was a good friend of my father’s, and I went to school with his daughters.

So the guy doesn’t have it all written up yet (which I have come to expect of garage owners), but it was $300 not counting the extra part he’d not tallied yet, and you know, that lever work can be tough.  That gave me a mental image of them playing with something resembled the emergency break lever, and my thinking it was nuts for that to have cost much.

Since I wouldn’t have the money, I scrambled to make sure my father didn’t leave without taking me.  I ran off yelling “Dad, Dad!  Don’t leave yet!.” There was his car, parked in the deceptively large expanse behind the building, so I looked inside.  There he was, helping to push a car up onto a ramp with about four other guys.

Some women were trying to push a VW bug into place on a much more rickety contraption, and as I watched the car slipped and the tip of the rear hit the floor at a sharp angle, denting it.  I stepped in to help.  That took them from not enough to too much strength, and my pushing too hard made the car go too far forward on its rickety perch, collapsing to the ground and knocking the supports over.

In the face of angry glares and grumbles, I declared I would not touch it again, turned and walked out the door, remarking that I’d never been so embarrassed, and hoping my father was done hanging out and would follow quickly.  It was of interest for me to note that I was wearing my giant winter overcoat, at least at that point, even though it didn’t seem to be winter.

That’s where I woke up, quite disturbed and thinking it was late enough, a bit after 6:00.

That part of the dream tied in with a longer sequence about going to a giant family house up north, which looked more like the von Trapp lodge in Stowe than anything we’d own, and being at another house, where my stepsister was using a rather odd kitchen.

Much as I’d love to continue cleaning, today needs to be back to trying to rustle up money.

I can always break from that to work on the story I’m trying to write for Valerie for her birthday, applying differently than I’d pictured originally a concept I thought of a couple years ago.  She’s particularly book obsessed currently.

This should be an interesting week.  Henry turns 6 months on the 20th.  My brother arrives in the area that evening for the winter see-his-kids allowance.  On the 21st Valerie turns 2.  We have a cake mix and such that didn’t get used previously, and a few small presents we’ve accumulated.  The birthday is going to mean our presence will be expected at my grandmother’s house Sunday, which is a challenge and, though I feel bad given how much she adores the kids and Henry especially, an annoyance.  My brother presumably returns his kids to captivity Sunday, as he leaves for home first thing the 25th.  Which could mean that the entire crowd will be expected at my grandmother’s Sunday, or a different day.  And it means we’ll see him this week, probably at least once with the kids and without the kids.  That’s always fun.  In the meantime, I need to work on the taxes.  Not merely because the former partner demands his K-1 before the 27th, but because I am completely unclear what to tell the Mayberry Gas & Electric people on their “please don’t cancel us yet” form, where the income is moot because the baby is under a year old.  So I have a week to tell them that, or to tell them I still don’t know.

This morning I woke to a flood of automatic replies and bounces to spams spoofed with random addresses  No wonder I had set the domain to bounce anything at an unused address, before I got worried and wanted to make sure anything that got through, I would get.

What’s worse is the stuff is going through a Gmail account, then forwarding, so most of the crap is actually getting spam filtered before it gets to me.

On that note, I’m back to cleaning that up and moving on with the day.  I still need to list the van for sale, and review some correspondence about ad sales.  I’ve been percolating how to extrapolate from the concise (someone called it an executive summary), comprehensive resume to special purpose ones, and can probably wrap my mind around that any time.

Off we go…

Ooh, I just realized I also need to figure out food for today.  There are two roasts and a good-sized steak in the freezer, so most likely we’re talking chili, a stew sans potato, or beef and gravy.  Or chicken.  There’s always chicken.  We’re out of hamburger, sadly.  I should have bought more at Market Basket.  I experimented with chicken in red sauce with pasta, but the standard is burger.  Anyway…

How could I forget!  I also have to take care of Carnival of the Capitalists.  Between this afternoon and sometime Tuesday, and then next week if nobody volunteers.

Posted by on 02/17 at 09:37 AM

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