I'm miserable this morning. I have to leave in a minute to take my car to the fix-it shop. My brakes are going out. The other day, the pedal went to the floor without stopping the car. Weird feeling. I was able to pump the brakes and get them to work. Trouble? Master cylinder, they say. But I have to have the car their early. Worse, I have no way home and will have to walk. Oh, I walk every day, but when you must, it is no longer a game. I don't know how far the shop is from my house, but it seems a long way. I have become accustomed to my leisurely morning routine. I don't even have time to get through the papers. Or my pot of coffee. I will be carless all day. Now, I don't usually go anywhere in this Time of Covid, but not having the option will be maddening.
How will I pick up my car, you ask? I haven't figured that out yet. I might Uber.
I bought a new washing machine yesterday. The $445 washer cost me over $600. Don't ask. Once you are there, you just do it. They will deliver it tomorrow, another day of waiting. Then Friday, the Wrecking Crew comes. Three days of. . . of my time being. . . not my time. Oh, man, it feels like work again.
And so, I must away. But before I go, what an explosion in Beirut. Once the Paris of the Middle East because of its beauty and liberal ways, it is now a burnt out wasteland. Religious zealotry can ruin anything.