Okay, so the tax stuff was worked out in the end--a combination of software glitches, personnel issues in the accountant's office, people ending up in the hospital, and all that fun stuff--so Mojo can get back to what's REALLY important with her life, which, naturally, involves a great deal of petty complaining.  MORE Mojo! »

So many sad, angry people ask me: Why, Mojo, how do you ever maintain your saintlike equanimity when faced with this vale of tears I call life? To which Mojo replies, Simple. I go to my spot. For just as Pooh--a Bear With Very Little Brain--had his Thinking Spot, so Mojo--a woman with very little else to recommend her--has her Spot, safely far enough away from polite society to render her fairly harmless and easy to ignore.  MORE Mojo! »

Does the superiority of all things feline go without saying? Still I should say it. Publicly. And try to ignore the razor-sharp claws at my neck as I type.

Aren't weekends supposed to be RELAXING times? Not for Mojo. The Deathtrap decided to expire. Luckily for me it decided to do so right where it was parked, and not, say, out in the wilderness ten miles from the nearest house.

And technically I guess it didn't DIE. It starts and runs just fine. The transmission blew, so it doesn't move, is all.

Anyway, it looks like we have decided to just leave it where it is and not even bother trading it in for a new car.

In the meantime, I am now driving my beloved Tacoma again. My Favorite Husband borrowed a big ol' service van from work.

So my nice relaxing weekend was spent not doing leisurely errands as I expected, but instead mad scrambling trying to a) get the Deathtrap moving again, and when that ultimately failed b) get a second vehicle until we can get around to buying a new car.

At least I have my little pick-'em-up again. I just LUV that little truck!

Mojo

Due to various circumstances beyond Mojo's control--because, really, this world would be PERFECT should Mojo be given the power to control EVERYTHING about it--she is still driving the Deathtrap, Consequently if she wanted to continue her running streak of law-abiding, she would have to get this potential block of compressed aluminum inspected by the end of the month.

To make things even more interesting, the state has decided recently to crack down on inspection garages who are just handing out stickers like so much largesse, meaning the law-abiding stations must be more diligent for a while in not letting things "slide". Which means that vaguely questionable vehicles such as my own probably won't pass if given this fine-toothed comb treatment.  MORE Mojo! »