august 22, 2002.

Well, as you can assume by the fact that this is online, the fucking switch was flipped this morning. Thank heavens for that - I was starting to develop the mean reds again.

I had a doctor's appointment in B-ton this morning, so I awoke earlier than is my habit and motored on down to the clinic. The drive from Mount Olympus to my teenage stomping grounds is surprisingly short - I left myself an hour and a quarter, and I arrived 45 minutes early. Again with the early. The only thing that consoles me is that as I am usually heinously late, when I am early I am grotesquely so.

Several thousand personal questions, a demoralizing session on the scales (144 pounds?! Christ. I'd better not go to Labrador in the next little while or I'll be picking spears out of my back) and one uncomfortable pap smear later, I was sent on my way. I get to do the blood work tomorrow, as I forgot to fast this morning. Joy. Also, the doctor seems to think that I'm developing a yeast infection despite the lack of symptoms. Makes sense to her, I suppose.

I was 2 inches out of my parking space when the car stalled.

Empty. Like, no more fumes empty. Really fucking empty. Luckily, I was roughly 20 metres from the nearest gas station, so I tripped down the parking lot and asked for help. Help was given in the form of an eleven-dollar "emergency fuel" jug, a jug that I couldn't open. Into the clinic once more, and the farm-bred receptionist opened my jug for me. (sigh) Yet although I was now able to roll completely out of the space, the car would stall immediately once in gear. Now I was starting to get mad.

I ran Lola-style, back to the gas station. The attendant sent the carwash girl to see what she could do for me. I ran ahead (again, Lola-style), as I had heard honking and feared the worst. In the meantime I had attracted the attention of an elderly gentleman who seemed only too eager to help (I think the braids help me in dealing with the general public, as I tend to look far younger and more kitten-like than I actually am.) With his help, I got the car rolled into a new spot, and we were set to begin working on the problem. It turned out that the car just needed a few seconds with the engine on, as the tank was bone dry and there was absolutely no fuel reaching the engine. I thanked the man for his helpful advice, got gas at the station and went to my mother's house. It was a hell of a time, but it went a long way towards confirming my suspicion that people aren't automatically mean and aggressive in Ontario. At least, some of them aren't.

My mother, on the other hand...

Look, it's probably unfair to detail the things she said in the heat of fury. As Johnette Napolitano wrote, "things I said in anger / I should've said with love." We all do that, my family more than most. When I was ready to leave her mad, she started crying on the doorjamb and I thought my heart would break. Suffice it to say that we've (once again) made up, although since she's really not convinced that she did anything wrong, it's anyone's guess when another incident of discord will present itself. Still, it's nice to be friends again.

Our trip to Chicago is on something of a rocky footing tonight, as the Boy is very feverish and sick to his stomach, not to mention the fact that we're just this side of stone broke. The good news is that he's feeling a bit better. The better news is that Q has offered to pay gas on the return trip if we'll haul some of his shit back to Gomorrah. I think that this trip might actually happen! Cool.