BioRhythms On a Triple Low

Disclaimer: There is whining here. Big, ugly whining that has very little to do with the pursuit of any points except the ones I get for actually making myself get out of bed today.

So grab some cheese. And another cup of coffee for me. Or the whining will be worse.

On Wednesday, I noticed my brakes felt funny. I thought: I need to get the car in the shop in the next couple of days, this is new and weird and I don’t like messing around with brakes, I’m fairly emotionally invested in having a car that stops when I want it to.

I am funny crazy like that.

At 4:00 in the afternoon, the car forced the issue by overheating on the freeway. It turns out that my engine light really does have illumination behind it, which it proved by lighting up like a tiny, menacing Christmas tree on my dashboard. On the freeway. I may have mentioned that part. I scanned the dashboard, once I noticed the angry engine light, and couldn’t help but also notice the temperature needle, which was all the way into the red and waving like the arms of the “DANGER WILL ROBINSON!” robot.

I cranked the heater all the way up and thought “DO NOT CATCH FIRE!” thoughts to the engine while I worked my way off the freeway. (I was actually in a car that caught on fire once. However, I was young and stupid and once the fire put itself out, I actually drove the car to my friend Diane’s house. Where her dad advised me that I was young and stupid.)

The car did not catch fire. I let it sit for a while to see if it would cool down enough for me to either 1)drive it home, 2) drive it to the shop. It was not happy with either of these options, and the needle zoomed all the way up to “Salsa Dancing On the Sun” immediately after I turned the car on.

So I had it towed. Then I hoofed it across the thoroughfare in our town where all the ladies of the oldest profession have their union meetings – and was not offered membership a single time, I might add – to wait for Himself at a Starbucks.

I decide I will ride my bike to work on Thursday. This is good, I’m training for a triathlon and all. The triathlon includes biking. Or snake-charming, I can’t always remember. But I have a bike, I never forget how to ride it. I live 5 miles from the hospital where I work. This is nothing but good!

Summer arrived yesterday.

We haven’t really had summer yet. It’s been weird here, unseasonable cool. Downright cold some evenings and mornings. But yesterday, I think for no other reason other than I had to ride a  bike to work, summer sauntered in and parked its 90+ degree ass down on Nothern California. GO BEARS.


Also, the dumpster arrived yesterday. And although I asked for a morning delivery, the young lady’s cavalier response to my request left me fairly well convinced that we were not going to  be seeing the dumpster any time before dinner. I have many years experience with service and delivery windows. But I am going to be all Zen about it, and the dumpster will get here when it gets here, and I am not going to think twice about it.

Which means of course that dumpster delivery guy will arrive when I am sitting here in my jammies.

Which are pink.

I throw a sweatshirt over my pink jammies and head out to sign for the dumpster and suggest where I want it put. Where I REALLY want it put has a car parked in it, so I take my second choice, which is almost in front of the mailbox. Our mail people do not like to get out of their trucks. If someone parks in front of the mailbox, you get your mail when they move. Maybe. But, I sort of the need the dumpster to be parked in front of our house, I don’t know who owns the car that put itself in my Preferred Dumpster Location, so if we win a sweepstakes, we may not hear about it ’till August.

As I’m standing outside in my pink jammies signing for the dumpster, I notice how warm I am. I glance up and see a big, bright, blinding light in the sky that for the past month has not been making an appearance before noon. It’s nine-thirty, and it’s already well past 70 degrees. I typically get to work at around 12, but I’m thinking that if I’m going to ride, my tuckus needs to be on a bike fairly soonish.

By 10:30, I’m on the road.

The ride to work wouldn’t be bad except that the construction in front of my hospital diverts me away several counties. I’ve never wanted a GPS to get me to my place of employment before.

The ride home, however, is clear testament to my occasional lack of anything resembling common sense.

Last year, as I got close to the race, I rode my bike to work once a week and rode around the small lake on the way each direction. This turned a 9.5 mile daily ride into a 16.5 mile daily ride. The race is 22 miles. Yesterday I think that I’m not quite ready to circle the lake twice, but I can circle it once. I decide that on the way home (when it’s HOTTER, for those of you who – like me – sometimes don’t string thoughts together in a way resembling anything any more highly evolved than your average sea cucumber) I will ride around the lake.

I am so brilliant sometimes it is frightening, in a “why on earth is she even licensed to drive a car?” sort of way.

The ride around the lake is a little hilly, but right before my house is a motherf*@#ing steep hill, and I don’t have a gear low enough.

But I make it. And ride up to my dumpster-adorned house a sweaty, nauseated mess.

The kids think I am having a stroke.

I think I am an idiot.

At 4:00 the phone rings. It is the autoshop, who has called to advise me that I am old and stupid. I decide that this is not really an improvement over being young and stupid. The brakes? Apparently I don’t have any. I’ve been stopping the car for who knows how long with the power of positive thinking. And the overheating is being caused by the broken (ie, cracked and holding no liquid whatsoever) radiator. Also, the front axles are about to fall off and hitch-hike to Alaska.

Total damage: $1200.


I am so tired by the time 9:00 pm rolls around that I fall asleep. With my contact lenses in. I never do this. Which means this morning my eyelids are stuck, probably permanently given the current state of my biorhythms, to my eyeballs.

Oh, and the car won’t be ready till this evening.

Which means I’m riding my bike to work again.

I am so going to be in the mood for a major demo project tomorrow.

Truly. I am oozing enthusiasm.


  1. I’m tired just reading all that! And we’re laughing with you, not at you ;)

    The weather is insane right now. Us Cali girls aren’t used to this nasty humidity. I’ll take 100+ degrees over any humidity, any day.

    Danger Will Robinson! I love it!!!

    1. Thanks. I need it.

      And the sweat wicking clothes are all in the laundry, which I have been too tired to do.

      Today…there will be sweat soaking. Which is totally not the same thing.

  2. oh, that sucks! I have brake problems I need to deal with but fear of the price tag & having spent $700 on DH’s truck already this month have kept me just sitting at home as much as possible

  3. I am sorry that I’m still laughing about your glued eyeballs. Sort of.
    Out of all that I’d be most cross about not being invited into the union. Seriously. You (or I) would be an excellent addition. We could get lifted or tucked or whatever and be a real asset to the group.

    1. I forgive you for laughing about my glued eyeballs. They were pretty funny in a blindly ironically tragic sort of way.

      And I couldn’t decide if I should be really put out about not being mistaken for a prostitute A SINGLE TIME.

      Something might have been very wrong.

  4. Once, while driving a friend to the airport, my car started smoking. After stopping and considering our options, we decided the car was fine and she couldn’t miss her plane.

    Surprisingly, nothing tragic happened.

    Ah, young stupidity.

    Not that I’m not just as stupid still!

    1. The first time my wiring burned up. So really, except for nothing like lights or radio working, it was fine. In the daytime at least.

      This time, not so much.

      But it’s really hard to argue with a plane to catch.

    1. I always worry they’ll throw something new in at the last minute.

      “This year, folks, we’re going to break from tradition a little and half a swim, a bike, and a ROLLER DISCO!”

      So you have to be prepared.

      And you asked and I forgot to tell you – race is September 12th.

    1. We who say “Danger Will Robinson” are a elite group.

      And it’s so hard to find each other what with the not being able to talk about it and all.

      And with much coaxing and lubricating drops, the eyballs did become unstuck.

      But it was touch and go there for a while. Which was icky.

  5. Ok, I totally am giving you major sympathies on the car, the dumpster, and the lazy ass mailpeople (who also work here in Texas, by the way).

    But the “it’s 9;30 and it’s already 70 degrees?” Just made me laugh. Seriously. Cuz it’s like, 100 before 9:30 here.

    I can’t wait to be a Californian again so I can be blissfully ignorant of all of the other miserable places to live in the U.S. Counting the days. :)

    1. Well, we Californians are not known for our weather hardiness.

      But mid-70’s at nine AM here means it’s going to hit high 90’s later.

      What the heck does it mean if it’s already 100????

      And how many days? When? Why?

    1. Since that day I have become a big fan of cars NOT catching of fire!

      And I’m glad you guys had a great time!

      I had to be available for travel, so it just seemed better to decline.:( Ah well!

      Hope you all had a drink in my honor!

  6. I am so glad you and your car are not a charred mess on the side of the road!

    And…this makes me extra happy you named that tune. You needed it in more ways than one. YAY!

    Good heavens, try and keep your chin up ;)

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