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month of stress
his next month is going to be so stressfull and drive me crazy if the past few days have been any indication. The process of getting utilities turned on so that inspections and appraisals can be performed at the new house are underway, and I have already spent more time on the phone this morning with people who aren't welfy than I do in a typical month.

As if the hassle of buying a home isn't headache enough, Sally has decided to throw little fits and tantrums. On Friday, her clutch rod came unfastened. I got out of that one fairly cheap with some help from my student Gary, who was a diesel mechanic prior to becoming a driver of the them. He offered to do the labor in my drive way, so all I had to pay for was the parts.

Then today, heading back on the road after a few days off, Sally starts whining about low oil pressure. She has plenty of oil, and her engine's not knocking, so this is probably something reasoinably small and simple to fix - perhaps a bad sensor or switch. The shop I got her into though won't be able to even diagnose the problem until later tonight or tomorrow morning. This means that, by the time she gets fixed some time tomorrow, I'll have been off the road for nearly a week. This is not a good time for me to be losing income. I have way too many things on my plate at the moment that's going to require funding over the coming weeks.

Do I know that all of this is worth it? Absolutely. But getting to a point of comfort again is going to arduous and taxing. I'm going to be irritable and cranky all the time until I get to the other side of it. You best stay out of my way for a while.

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Pfft. I can't see you dragging your lazy ass overseas just to kill me when you have so many on your own continent.

I'll be sleeping well tonight.

Perhaps after viewing my Linda Evans Playboy.

You sir, underestimate the reach of my influence.

I've seen that issue. My dad had quite a collection of vintage Playboy's from the 60's and 70's that I had regular access to as a teenager.

Unless of course you're referring to a NEW Linda Evans Playboy which frankly, I think would be kinda gross.

Oh God, it was far worse in my case, it was my GRANDfather that couldn't hide his stash properly. His vintage Playboys and Penthouses were predated by weird cheesecake magazines, not with cheesecakes, but with topless women just sort of standing around and smiling. This sandwiched between a visit to the artefacts of the ruination of Pompeii and the onset of the internets gave me excellent exposure to the whole History Of Porn which I enjoy to this day until early 2006 sometime.

If only he'd stashed Australian Personal Computer magazine instead, I could have been a high ranking nerd by now.

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