Last night I was working on my budget, and I was thrilled to discover that by the end of the summer, I could pay off every one of my credit cards. I went to bed excited at the prospect of being debt-free, what a great feeling. I almost stopped resenting my hateful work schedule for five minutes. I also managed to get my closet clean on Thursday, so I was going to have my day off after all. This made me happy too!

I woke up this morning before my alarm went off, after a blissful eight hours of sleep. The sun was shining, the birds were not chirping, the child who lives in the house was neither screaming nor leaping around right overhead. I stretched out languorously, with a smile on my face. It was going to be a super day!

Not only was my budget in good shape, but I had an extra $100 and so was able to go shopping. (I have this list of Things I Need But Can't Afford, and I am always excited when I finally Can Afford the Things.) I went to the ultimate $100 store, Target. (You never walk out of there spending less than $100... I think it's a law.)

I spent almost exactly $100 and got all kinds of important stuff. From the List, I got two work shirts and two pairs of work shorts, and two bags of socks. I desperately needed new work clothes; if I have to wear that same pair of pants to work for one more day, I will shoot myself in the head, and I am tired of doing laundry every night-- especially since the washing machine is usually (read: always) occupied.

Anyway. Clothes and stuff, that was like, $60. I also got a neat necklace and a sparkly bracelet and some green glitter stuff. Yes, I am a girl. P is for Peril is out in paperback, and I was ecstatic when I walked by and saw that-- I grabbed it, of course. I got some odds and ends: fabric softener sheets, a Father's Day card, double sided tape. And the Harry Potter DVD, which was like $15, so who could resist it?

Very exciting and happymaking, this shopping trip. Yes, indeed.

After that, I took myself to the movies. There are so many movies I want to see, but haven't, it's become quite a luxury. (I did go and see Unfaithful when I was in L.A. It was good, except I didn't care for the shift in the middle, I wanted it to be her story, not his. The second half was less interesting to me. Abby also had Life as a House on DVD and I watched that-- not what I expected; it was very good.)

Today, I finally saw the new Star Wars. And I started to write about it here and then went on and on and on, so I just threw it in the Mo at the Movies section, which continues to hang over John Cleese's shoulder and say, "I'm not dead yet!" To sum up, I left the theater feeling pleasantly surprised. I was able to willfully overlook most of the flaws in the thing and have a good time.

I came home and took a nice hot shower with all my pampery girly bath products, then dug right into my new book. It's been so long since I was able to curl up with a book, so damn long of a wait in between new Sue Grafton mysteries, it was pure bliss.

And that's when I decided to go get a sandwich for dinner. And that's when I walked outside and tried to open my car door, only to find that it won't "open" in the traditional sense. Nor will my car "drive" in the traditional sense, because the metal is jammed right into the tire. I got slammed into by a fucking hit and run driver, no note, no nothing.

It looks like such a small dent, too. But my car is not driveable. At first, I thought the seat belt was stuck in the door or something, so I yanked it open part way, squeezed in and tried to drive. All I heard was tire scraping metal, and that's when I got out and realized what was really going on.

The first thing I did was call my insurance company but of course, this isn't covered. So remember the part about how I was so happy my finances were in order, and I was going to pay off my credit card bills, and la la la, life is swell? NOT SO MUCH. Now I have to get the fucking car fixed, and we all know how much you get reamed on that.

I could cry. In fact, I did cry.

How much is this going to cost? When can I get it fixed? How am I going to get to work? Am I going to bike uphill two miles to get there every day? Am I going to ride my bike home from work at 11:00 every night? And most importantly, how am I going to find the ASSHOLE who did this to my car?

I have a strong suspicion (based on the location of the car and the dent) that someone coming out of the driveway across the street did it. Six or seven cars use that driveway, there are a bunch of apartments there, I don't know what to do. Go door to door and ask if anyone saw something, so the person who did it can lie to me and say they didn't do it? Inspect cars for paint marks? Leave flyers on windshields demanding that the person come forward? What does one do, in a case like this?

Anyway, so my happy day off was ruined by this, and now I'm depressed again. I can't believe I managed to stave off all boy-related melancholy to give myself this great day, only to have this crappy thing happen.

I know it could have been worse-- one of my co-workers, for instance, got in a car wreck on Monday and broke her hip, and she's a single parent of a three-year-old, and she's got her psycho ex-boyfriend breaking his restraining order and un-registering her from her nursing classes... now those are some problems, and she manages to stay positive about them somehow. I just have a dent in my car. I know in the grand scheme of things, I will figure out solutions to my questions and this will be resolved.

But right now, I can't help feeling sucky about it anyway. At least I can have Pop Tarts for dinner. And that's something.

"Anyway. I intended to segue by saying, 'I could go on and on about poetry... but I'll spare you.' And then look what I did. I didn't spare you at all, did I?"