Break It Down

Monday I get in my little French Canadian Corolla, Blanche, (she was made in Quebec), turn the key and...
Zip.
Try again since I wasn't holding my mouth right, obviously.
Nada.
This time I open the glove box, punch on the map light and jiggle the shifter before trying again, because hello? that's procedure. (You know you do it too.)
Not a peep.

Out comes the trusty AAA card and they send over the cutest guy (Chad) to determine it is, in fact, the [original] seven year old battery. Which he replaces for $113 while I wait.
Folks, as I've said before - I am a closer. I hate gathering information and running around trying to figure out how to save $3. (Ask me about the tent story sometime) I called my favorite auto shop in Carrboro afterward, they quoted $159, so I felt vindicated in my decision.

Then last night I come home from a friend's graduation and open the frig for a glass of unwind wine - it's dark. I figure the light's burnt out, no biggie. This morning it's distinctly uncool in there. The stove hood light is out too, but the stove works, and so does the overhead kitchen light, so perhaps the breaker? Ah, no.

Ding dong, the frig is dead.

Home warranty and $60 will get it working again, I hope.

Guess I can finally get the Samsung frig I've been coveting for months.


Why does this stuff ALWAYS happen when you get the credit cards paid off?!