...and the total cost of the fix for my car is $515.34.  Never mind the fact that I made only slightly more than that this past week.  Thankfully I have credit cards, or else my move this weekend would get real interesting.  Not to mention they may not have my car fixed until tomorrow...I'll find out at 3 PM.  I lost track of the number of times I used the word "fuck" at work after I passed 20.

(This is not just for the door; I need to have the power steering fluid flushed...it is black.  A year and a half ago it was a medium brown.) 

This situation is a fuckload of shit.  A fucking fuckton of fuckable fuckness. 

I'm not sorry...I needed that.

Maggie May (my Ford Focus, who is also know as Madame Maggie May, if You Please) is currently in the shop at a local Ford dealership.  Over the weekend, she decided not to start for me...and to lock up the gear shift, the steering column, the brakes, the front tires, and the gear shift...after I had loaded her to the brim with things from my old house.  Yes, Maggie May and I had a rough weekend.  I was sans my only method of transport, and she was all alone in Woodbridge, while I pined for her in Quantico.  

This morning, I had to have her towed to Ford.  I'd rather not think about the cost of the towing job right now, but anyway.  It turns out something broke inside the ignition switch: most likely a tumbler.  I just got off the phone with Ford, and it appears that they are a bit worried about the amount of give in the steering column now.  Hmmmm...could that be from any one of the multiple fixes I attempted?  I believed that the car had just locked up, never considering that it could have been the ignition switch.  You see, Dear Reader, I am about as mechanical as an infant...without all of the mechanical knowledge and celerity.  

The events of this weekend have left me wondering just how much this fix is going to hurt me financially.  I assume if the steering column has a little extra give, my life will not be in danger when Maggie May and I go out on our dates, but I do not want to die over some stupid $200 fix.  

So now I play the waiting game.  I agree with Tom Petty that the waiting is the hardest part (although I think he was either talking about love or long lines for the bathroom, as both seriously affect one's mental well-being), but I am just writing to keep from worrying.  Maggie May and I had some good times...and I'd like to keep them coming.