Monday, January 25, 2016

Easy Things I Make Difficult

I had two of these in my head as I was driving home but I already forgot one. Remember how I said I needed to write shit down so I could maybe make this blog a bit interesting? Yeah, didn't even do talk to text on my way home so I forget the other one. Damn it.

Oil Changes
This is one of the dumbest things about me. I can change my own fucking oil but, because the Bat's cousin moved back to California, we no longer have anyone with a shop where I can go and do it. So I have to act all common and shit and take my car to a mechanic to have it done. This isn't a huge deal to be honest. The place I go is within walking distance of the Bat Cave so I can drop my car off and then walk to the cave and watch television or nap or whatever and wait for the text that tells me to come get my shit. But, like most people, I work all the damn time and the place's hours are not convenient for me to have the deed done after I get home. No big deal because they are open on Saturdays, right? Well, I go to the country every god damn weekend so that doesn't work.

That would be an awesome excuse if it weren't for the simple fact that my mechanic is fucking awesome. I've been able to drop off my car on Friday afternoon, give the homies my key, and they just call me on Saturday when they are done, I pay over the phone, and they lock my shit up so I can pick it up when I get back on Sunday. So, basically, I can drop off my car and my spare key, pay by phone, and pick my shit up when I get home. That is the epitome of convenience and my mechanics are super awesome and make life extremely easy.

And yet I still have times when I'm beyond due for an oil change and have the little orange wrench glowing on my dashboard and a scary negative number fuel life flashing at me all the damn time. What the fuck do I want? Do I need these mother fuckers to come to my place and take care of this shit for me in the middle of the night or something? I can drop my car off and go to the Bat Cave and chill or I can drop my car off and pick it up whenever I fucking feel like it and still I treat it like this huge ordeal. I took fucking PTO today to take care of this because I was tired of seeing -173 oil life flashing at me all the time. I for real took a vacation day for this shit. Who does that when they have a really good and really convenient mechanic? This bitch, that's who.

Getting My Mail
I make two trips to my mailbox every month. Seriously, I don't think I check it more often than that and I have a feeling the mail carrier assumes I travel for business a lot because of this. Now, if I lived in a very rural area and had a PO box, this would make sense because I'd probably be making two trips to town every month. But even though I'm on the border of Garland, I live in Dallas, Texas, a major metropolitan area. What's more, I live in an apartment complex. My mailbox is in my neighborhood. It's one of those metal affairs that is in a mailbox apartment complex all of it's own. But it is far enough away from my actual dwelling that walking ALL THE WAY there is just beyond my lazy ass.

Seriously, it's like .1 mile from my apartment. I used to live in Columbus, Ohio and would walk all the time. I used to run. When I first moved to Texas, I lived in Mesquite and would routinely walk to the grocery store because I could. But now? Apparently getting my mail is an enormous burden akin to walking two buildings over in the snow to do my laundry (which I did in Ohio). I have legit driven home from work, parked my car close to the boxes, gotten my mail, and then driven the rest of the way to my apartment.

Let that sink in for a minute. Get home, swipe my wallet against the gate reader to open the gate, drive a little, park my car and turn it off. Get mail, get back in car, start car, and drive like five yards to a different parking spot. Granted, I, like most people, don't get a lot of 'real' mail but that box fills up pretty quickly because of circulars and shit. Half the time, I get my mail just because I feel like the mail carrier thinks badly of me because s/he has to keep cramming shit in there. I am guilted into getting my damn mail when, in reality, the carrier probably has zero fucks to give about it.


Man, I really wonder what the other one was that I forgot. 

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