I made anxious faces at my mom as he continued to speak. The dollar amount increased more and more. Tirods not doing well. New breaks. New back axle. You would have thought I had a car accident with all this, but originally I went in because my engine light went on. Usually that isn’t such a big deal, but my car felt like it had been getting louder and louder lately. So I took it in. A little under four grand later, it would be fixed. It was a unfortunate state of affairs. Necessary, but still unfortunate. The week was not going terribly well.
Unfortunately, this postpones my hunt for apartments to a later date. I vented to my brother in the car as we headed to Subway for diner (since out parents decided to finish a minor remodle in the hallway that night, and we didn’t want to get in their way by making diner in the kitchen which leads directly into that hallway. Besides they were running to the hardware store and were going to get something). He expressed his sympathy…then proceeded to turn up his music that he didn’t care to listen anymore about my anxiety. I was okay with that. I didn’t want to listen to it either. So we drowned our thoughts in some Relient K and spoke little.
I still was upset about it. I didn’t eat, because I wasn’t hungry. Too worried. I walked around the gas station convenience store. Thought about buying a soda. Then I saw the wall of BB Guns (yes, only in the hick country towns of Wisconsin can you purchase a BB Gun at the gas station) and thought of getting one to let off some steam at the beach…oh wait. Couldn’t drive to the beach. Because my car is in the shop. I sighed. It was something that kept drawing back to my mind.
I had driven that car to and from Chicago recently. I told my mechanic that. He whistled and told me he is surprised my wheel didn’t go flying off on the interstate. I knew he wasn’t exaggerating. He was a family friend. He told things as they were. I nodded, even more thankful that it didn’t happen…especially with the friends I found myself toting around. He told me I was lucky. That they were so badly deteriorated that he is surprised they didn’t break when he took it for a test run to listen to what I described. He would take care of it. It would be better. I could start fresh. A lot of money, but I could start fresh.
I have the money to pay for it. That isn’t so much the issue. What is the issue is the fear of not having enough at some point in my life to actually be able to take care of these things. I have been fortunate enough to have a wonderful family to float me cash, and been a pretty good saver much of my life. Yet, moments like these made my savings account look far too small and made my fears overwhelming. Not only that, but I was anxious because I had company coming to visit, and I wanted to make sure my car was going to be operational for their visit. My mom’ scar is available of course, but…it’s not my car. I don’t like hers. Not enough room. Didn’t drive like mine. Too low to the ground. Her little Honda minivan wasn’t my Chevy SUV.
I keep writing all this in past tense, but I still find myself anxious. I suppose that’s normal though. Aggravatingly normal. Whatever. I shouldn’t fear what I don’t know will happen. We all know I’m going to anyway.