If I was a mechanic, I’d look. But I’m not, so I won’t.

For over a week, we left the key in the ignition in our van. Intentionally.

It had been touchy to insert it for a few weeks, but FavoriteSon and I had finessed the process. Then, on our trip to Georgia last week, FirstHusband, having no idea about the problem (oops), was a little more forceful with it and the next time we tried to get the key in the ignition, it took a few minutes. Since we were in Georgia and didn’t want to get STUCK in Georgia, we left a key in the ignition, covered it with a jacket and locked the van with another key. We wrapped a ponytail holder around it to remind us not to remove it.

Since I had to work on client site Tuesday and did NOT want to try and park FirstHusband’s Ford F250 in Downtown Orlando, I scheduled the repair for Wednesday morning. For the most part, I would say I’m really pleased with Courtesy Honda in Sanford, but when I went to pick up the van, I was . . . a little insubordinate.

Service Rep: “I want you to take a look at that leaking pressure hose.”
Me: “I’d really rather not.”
Service Rep: “You really need to see it.”
Me: “Not really. I’m not a mechanic, that’s why I outsource my car repair.”

(See, this is why I’m in business for myself. If I worked for someone else, I would be fired for insubordination within about a minute and a half. FirstHusband says I have a problem with authority. I say I tend to ignore bossy people.)

He just wanted me to look at a wet hose, which he said he could fix for $570. Half hour later, our favorite mechanics at Oviedo’s Automech quoted $359. (Automech told me to have the dealer do the ignition repair because of its integration with the alarm sytem)

I’m not any good at repairing a leaking power steering pressure hose. I’m better at finding someone competent who can do it at the best price.

bah, gumbug.

PinkGirl: “Mom, I don’t think I’m going to want any more gum.”

Me: “Why not?”

PinkGirl: “Look.”

ewwwwww. a roach. Was it death by bubble gum? Or did he just get trapped in the container and starve to death?

And does PinkGirl throw it out? of course not.

Once again the lyrics of “I’m a Mom” come into play: “I’m a mediator, exterminator . . . ”

Is it a coincident that my pest control guy called TODAY to set up an appointment for our annual service?

(I looked, but there just wasn’t an applicable post tag for this one.)