Has today really only been one single day? Or a magnum opus in three movements? This morning started gently enough. I slept as long as the dogs would let me. I felt sore, as I have lately, like I did something to my back, and sleeping in the world's best bed makes it worse instead of better. My apps for satellite radio failed to work, both on the phone and on the iPad. All things that barely rated the term "mild annoyance." I had work-arounds for pretty much everything, and it was all fine.
At noon, I finally sought help for my car, which has been misbehaving since summer. The problem was intermittent, and I was afraid that if I went in with something that wasn't constant, I could never recreate it, and they would treat me like I was just a silly girl who was imagining things. But it has been getting worse, and I have stopped feeling confident in my car's functionality in low gears. Turns out this is something they've seen before. I don't think it approaches recall status, but I didn't have to work very hard to get them to take me seriously. I was offered a ride home, while they did my oil change, and ran the diagnostics on the car. I accepted the ride, and the nice shuttle driver dropped me off in my driveway. He was already leaving when it occurred to me, I almost never carry a key. I had been relying on the garage door opener, which was conveniently located on my visor, in the car, at the dealership a couple miles up the road. I tried the front door, tried to lift the garage door by hand, and hoped against hope that for once I was sloppy and left the back door unlocked. No luck, all the way around. I texted a friend, to see whether she still had my spare key. I had it backwards. She had returned my key, but I still had hers. At least she came to my rescue after I got tired of writing in my notebook for the story, once all my batteries ran down. She took me back up to check on the car, and to get food and a bathroom (separately), all things I needed after three hours sitting in the shade on the deck. The report on the car is that they had to order a new clutch assembly, and the parts are on back order (there is a large back order nationwide -- I wasn't kidding that they were seeing lots of these problems coming back on my model year). Freaking shoot me.
I had an excellent avenue to relieve stress this evening. My club had a trip to ladies' night at a local gun range. For a low fee, we got a whole package: a short instruction, gun rental, bullets, targets, and t-shirts. I have only gotten to go do this a few times in my life, mostly in the last two years, and this was the first time I had a lane to myself. I also had a choice of guns and a pile of bullets. It was (singing falsetto) Awe-Some. I was not upset that we were only shooting 22s. I have little wimpy hands, and it was perfect for me. I went back and forth between the 8 shot revolver and a 10 shot semi-automatic, and I surprised myself by really preferring the semi-automatic, even though mine shot distinctly off to the right compared to where I was sighting it. The revolver was far more accurate. But the semi-automatic was a much softer pull. If the resolution on my photos when I upload them is clear enough to read, I did a lot of grouping in different parts of the target, each time I switched weapons. And yes, every time I was using the one, the groupings were several inches to the right of where I was aiming. Even my play time was slightly off tonight.
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