*BEYOND RAGE*

My. Car. Didn't. Start. Tonight.


OH MY FUCKING GOD WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE PEOPLE AT THE REPAIR SHOP?


... *deep breaths*

I got her started and made it home, but...

Tomorrow morning I'm going to take Trixie back. I'm going to wear a suit and heels and then look them in the eye and say that we did NOT just shell out almost $1,500 to have my car die again less than a week after I got it back. Mind you, they had it for THREE weeks and this STILL happens? No. Just. Fucking. NO.

So.

They WILL fix my car for free.
They WILL provide me with a loaner car. Also for free.
I will NOT allow them to bully me just because I'm a girl.

...but for now I'm going to be a girl and eat ice cream and try not to cry out of sheer frustration.

Poem Spam.

(...because tonight I needed this one too.)

Sonnet 73
by William Shakespeare

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.