Help

I fell out of the bed this morning.  Just straight fell out.  And, no, I had not been drinking.  I guess I thought I was more in the center of the bed than I was and I just sort fell out when I rolled over.  I landed on my ass next to the nightstand and I thought, yeah, that's going to hurt later.  It does.  Later, when I was sitting in a meeting trying to figure out why my macbook kept self-assigning an IP address instead of actually connecting to the wee-fee so that I could get some work done while pretending to listen to a guy who said, "Well even a broken clock is right twice a day; so you should still get something out of a boring meeting, " I decided that God's gentle hand had pushed me out of my bed so I would have a reason to take a 1/2 a pain pill allowing me the mental tenacity to endure the six hours I still had left in my meeting.

After that I made a Tour de High Desert in search of the answer to why my tire light was on.  My tire light came on a few weeks ago, but then it went off so I promptly forgot about it, but today I had the time to be concerned and do something about it.  Turns out I need new tires.  I don't know jack shit about tires and I didn't want to pay any extra for my monster truck tires than I had to, so after the second estimate,  I called Gene whom I knew would have some real life practical advice based on knowledge of actual car parts and car service.   Gene used to teach diesel engine repair.  He's hardcore and his shit is always in good repair.  I said, "Gene, what's a reasonable amount for me to pay for tires." And he answered, "Well you can pay as much as you want."  And while that wasn't real helpful, Gene did let slip that his "boy" worked at Firestone and I should go over there because that was an honest upstanding tire establishment who wouldn't look at my ringless feminine ring finger and try to take me for all I was worth, plus they had put tires on his truck and Bill's truck just a couple of weeks ago and I knew if it was good enough for Bill and Gene it was good enough for me.  So I drove myself clear across three cities to the Firestone shop where I asked for Doug and then I said, "Yeah, I just talked to your dad.  He's my peeps.  He said hook a sister up."  Doug promptly looked at my tires and said, "Yeah, they're pretty bad." And I thought well if Gene's honest son thinks they're bad I better get me some new tires pronto.  They'll be put on Saturday.