True Confession

Perhaps this belongs under the "my life is about embarrassment/humiliation" post but, it's late and I haven't blogged in ages. No homework to avoid...

Feeling I must give it the old college try I decided to give eharmony a whirl. Several years ago I did some lurking on the site just to see what kind of people were on there and registered myself as Mary. I don't know, is that the confession part? Anyway, a couple of months ago there was a $19.99 "special" which I thought I signed up for but I got charged $119 or something ridiculous so I called customer service. 

Yes, another customer service call with one of our friends on the south asian penninsula.  First I had to share that my email address was spongebob.67  "How do you spell that?" he asked.  Must I say it out loud again?? Then feeling I needed to make a clean breast of things I confessed my name was not Mary (which he had been calling me the entire time...)  "Your name is not Mary?"  I don't know how I create this in my life.

Because I know you're wondering, I think internet dating stinks. Shal-low.

Disclaimers:
1. I'm fascinated by all things Indian, totally want to visit, what's not to love. It's just the lack of facility with English has proved consternating in my recent customer service experiences.
2. Spongebob.67 is catchy, easy to remember, it has a nice cadence...It is the account I use for anything I know is going to generate a lot of annoying email i.e. facebook (which I do not love.)

The Carwash

I think my life is about embarrassment/humiliation. I purchased an automatic carwash the other day. I never saw the light turn red, never heard a honking sound, and couldn't really tell when my wheel went in the divet-thing so I just kept going. Soap started to spray but by then I was already rolling through the exit. I considered sacrificing the $4 but my car was dotted with soapy stuff. Backing up did not re-activate the carwash. Curses! Overcoming my chagrin, I got a new code but the guy had to watch me drive into the carwash! Like, he actually told me, "I'll watch you drive in." No!! It was a simple error, don't watch me! Ugh!

An unrelated side-note: I was in a little strip-mall the other night and could see through the windows of Bikram Yoga. I thought it would be a bunch of soft, suburban housewives posing in the latest yoga attire. No, it was a bunch of stringy, grey-haired, minimally clothed white guys stretched out on the floor with ye olde hippy-yoga-master perched on a dais in the lotus position chugging water! Eew!

It's Skill level, Jerry.

I've never doubted I am my cello teacher's oldest student, but there have been high-school and college students at the recitals over the years. Well, we just had a Master Class and all the other students were talking about being in Middle School soon. Yes, all in elementary school . Me and the kids, playing cello.

Cujo

Remember how I posted once about little dogs yipping at me when I'm out running? Well, this morning I was trotting around the neighborhood and a dog starts barking at me. It was kind of a medium sized dog so I start veering to the right to give it a wide berth. Next thing I know old Cujo has latched onto my pant leg. Having no bum to prevent the descent of my pants I had nearly a half-moon exposure going on! Dumb dog. I guess I should be glad I have only a hole in my pants and not in my leg.

So much!

One of my cute little nieces who is not quite two says, "So much!" Meaning, "I love you so much!" but she can't quite say the entire sentence.  Isn't that adorable?

Not my garage--not lucid enough to grab the camera. Mine wasn't quite this bad.

Today I had garage door issues. Running late as I always do and backing out of the driveway at 30mph, I slammed on the brakes when I noticed  the garage door had failed to close and was hanging askew. Good grief! I went into the garage and discovered two of the rollers had popped off-track on one side. Being resourceful I grabbed a ladder and put them back into the track. I tried closing the door. Ping! They popped out completely, narrowly missing the open garbage can.

I replaced them again and decided to close the door manually. Because the door was already askew I hesitated to pull it from the bottom fearing it might flatten me if it suddenly sprang free. Smart girl that I am, I got on a ladder to push it from the top. Pushing an unmoving  garage door from the top of a ladder makes the ladder tilt backwards. Eek! No, I was not left dangling from the garage door.

All my efforts only led to the door hanging askew 3/4 of the way down and a roller lost somewhere in the depths of the garbage can. Why me??

Now 30 minutes late I rushed off to my appointment with grease-covered hands, grateful nonetheless--yes, grateful, as I learned with my previous garage door experience--that my car was outside the garage when all this happened.

When I got home I resigned myself to digging through the garbage which I had filled to the brim only this morning with yard debris. Note to self--close lid of garbage can when vital parts falling from door.

Just then my neighbor knocked on the door and asked if I needed help. I had called a repair person, mind you, but was glad to have my neighbor take a look. He totally fixed it in 10 minutes! By the time I had scattered twigs, leaves etc. all over my garage floor and found the missing part (at the very bottom of the can, no less) he was ready for the part and it was done! Yay!! So much!!

I am going to fertilize, mow and edge our adjoining lawns without restraint come spring.

Eeew!

So two of my nephews say they have tried nursing their babies. Is this normal?? Sounds like some kind of Freudian Envy thing to me. Poor babies--Pitooey! I'm sure they wanted to spit.

Hahaha!

I was parked in a totally dark section of the parking lot tonight, I couldn't really see the buttons on my key-less entry thing so I kind of half-way pushed them not wanting to elicit loud honking by mistake. The locks didn't open so I tried putting the key in the lock and the darn thing wouldn't go in!  Wrong car!! Eek!!

Hobby Lobby Lunacy

I entered Hobby Lobby looking for cellophane bags and left with an ulcer. Craft stores in general distress me--drain my energy, make my head ache. Hobby Lobby is out of control. I could feel my anxiety/panic rising with every minute I spent there! Is it the pressure to decorate? I have no idea but I dislike that place immensely. Is there really any reason or need for 50 ft high aisles of garland and wrapping paper? 200 lb crucifixes? 5,000 glue guns?

I found the cellophane bags after wandering for three miles. I went to checkout, there were two cashiers and 20 women in line. The woman ahead of me had a huge stack of scrapbook paper--all priced differently, all needing to be scanned individually. What kind of madness is this??

Never again.

Don't Tell M What to Do

Many years ago after being scolded for saying to our mom, "Don't tell me what to do, young lady!"  my brother changed his response to, "Don't tell M what to do!"  

What does this have to do with flying a plane? I'll tell you. Hahaha, just kidding.

Whilst my mother was visiting her homeland (not Sacramento) I went to mow my parents' lawn. My father supposes the ground is more like a sieve than a sponge and thus requires phenomenal amounts of water in order to fill that sieve. Standing pools of water are not an indicator of saturation.

As you might guess, the grass is never dry, fairly anemic, and quite long. As you might also guess, the lawn mower has a hard time with long,wet grass. Anemic grass has no effect on mower function.

As I mowed the first row, my dad motioned for me to come over. "You're not running the engine fast enough."  It's on maximum speed.

On the second pass he motioned for me to stop again. "When you're mulching there should be a plug in the blower hole."  I checked before I started, it's in there. "Lift up the flap so I can see."

Third pass, he stops me again. "You're walking too fast."  Seriously now, I'm considering a new mowing pattern that keeps me on the far side of the yard where I can't see him motioning for me to stop!

Fourth pass--I'm not looking up, pretending I don't see him waving me down. I get to the pavement, can't turn around without running over my dad, must stop. "The lever's not fully in the high-speed position."
Aaagh! Don't tell M what to do!

Maybe it's all part of the conspiracy.

Conspiracy Theory

I believe my family is conspiring to make me crazy. For your assessment:

My parents, being unaquainted with all things computer, asked me to discontinue the dial-up internet connection my sister had established for them. Why they asked me when it is my sister who has been managing/paying for the account I do not know. I asked my sister if she would discontinue the account since she is the one being billed, but she felt it would be easier if I took care of it since I had access to a notebook in which my mother had recorded her user name--consisting of her first initial and last name. Ok, I can see that is tricky information, I'll be sure to reference the notebook when I call.

I called and supplied the account holder's name--my mother's--and her telephone number. So far so good.

Operator: "Please tell me the last four digits of your mastercard."
Me: "Uh, I'm not the one paying. I don't have a card number."
Operator: "I'll have to verify with the secret question. What is the birth city of the account holder?"
Me: "Uh...Tokyo?"
Operator: "That does not match."
Me: "Saitama-ken?"
Operator: "No."
Me: "Yamanashi-ken?"
Operator: "No."
Me: "Wait! I'm doing this for my mother, I can't remember the name of the city where she was born!"
Click.

I called my sister, "I couldn't answer the secret question! Where was our mother born?"
Sister: "Sacramento."
Me:  "What?"
Sister: "I put Sacramento because it's easier to remember."
Me: "What?"
Sister: "That's where I was born."

Aaarghh!

Sister Wives

This one I stole from a blog la Guera Salsera follows, it's too fascinating not to share. Sister Wives is a new TLC show about a polygamous (soon to be prosecuted) family in Lehi. They're fundamentalists, as I suppose all polygamists with Mormon origins call themselves, but they're not of the infamous Warren Jeffs-FLDS variety. Kody and his gang are part of the Apostolic United Brethren (AUB) group. Remember a crazy fella named Cody Judy? It's all in the name, brothers and sisters.

They seem pretty normal but every once in awhile they pop out something crazy like, "The first time I kissed Kody was across the altar because it's not right to kiss a married man."   But it's ok to date one?

While I don't endorse polygamy, I do wonder why it's illegal to make a commitment to multiple women and have lots of kids, but legal to have multiple uncommitted relationships and still have lots of children.

"Come On Vacation, Leave On Probation"

I had just sat down at the gate for my return flight to Utah when I became aware of a man talking very loudly on his cell phone, "...yeah, I hired a lawyer...blah, blah, blah." It was incredibly annoying and as I hoped to do some studying while waiting for my flight, I moved to another area without even a backward glance.

As the plane started to taxi, the guy in the aisle seat asked me if I was from Utah. He then proceeded to tell me, "You come on vacation, leave on probation."  Huh?

"Yeah, I hired a lawyer." Oh no, the annoying man from the gate!

"Yeah, I got arrested for having a loaded handgun."  Uh, stewardess?

I tried feigning sleep but he kept right on talking anyway so I got to hear all about him being drunk with a loaded gun at some lake in Brigham City and how his dog was put in the pound for the entire weekend eventhough he was only in jail overnight.

Now tell me, why is it people who are seriously lacking in education, common sense and decency are allowed to own guns? Why does anyone need a gun? This is not Colonial America and we do not need to shoot our own food, nor do we need to organize a militia to fend off any Redcoats. Good grief, this is how people get shot...

No, not an altered image.

"An Unmarried Woman"

I decided to refinance my home and signed about a billion documents today. One of those documents was some paper registering me with the county and I was listed as, "An unmarried woman."

What, pray tell, does that have to do with anything?

And while I'm speaking of the absurd, for some reason they decided to process this loan under my full name, meaning I had to sign first, middle and last name on everything. I don't think I've written "Sumiko" in cursive, ever. Is that one hump or two on the m...Why does a cursive m have three humps anyway?  Who made that up? Do we make three little loopy things for a cursive w??

I make a motion to abandon cursive writing. What's the purpose anyway? We don't use fountain pens anymore or anything with a nib (nib?), so theres no longer a need for a smooth, flowing style of handwriting. Curses on cursive, I say!

Birthday DJ

This is the most ridiculous ecard ever, but do you recognize the Birthday DJ?
And, holy cow, check out the raised L eyebrow midway through.

Parking Meters

I don't often have occasion to use a parking meter but several recent trips downtown have convinced me our little city on the lake needs a serious upgrade. I pulled into a stall and realized I had no change. Who carries cash these days, let alone coins?? Ugh, I ended up purchasing an unwanted, very expensive beverage in order to get coins. $.25 for fifteen minutes is undoubtedly a bargain but it's a major pain!  And what kind of money is that making the city anyway? Is it even paying the salary of the meter-maid? Is there such a person? Meter-man?

While we're at it, lets get rid of the penny.

I Cannot Tell a Lie

Chipping away the roots.

Socks and flip-flops--Japanese inheritance, I guess.

Trying to save my plants.

Years ago the people behind me planted about fifteen trees in their backyard including several cottonwoods along our shared fenceline and then moved. Knowing the weed-like, invasive nature of the trees, I  considered arborcide while the house was vacant, but I refrained. The two subsequent owners have never watered the yard or trees but somehow there is a veritable forest of nuisance/garbage trees thriving back there. Where do all those trees get their water? My yard!!

I have cottonwood sprouts surfacing in the flower beds right next to my house, all my plants are getting strangled and robbed of water by the blasted roots, and woody bumps are surfacing in my lawn.

I bought a little hatchet!

Now, to the best of my understanding, one may prune overhanging branches. What about invading roots? Clearly the owner has no interest in whether the trees live or die or else he'd water them, right? And, really, he's stealing my water and killing my plants.

You Know You're Getting Old When...

So I got together with some friends for dinner and we were busy catching up on each others' lives when suddenly we realized the conversation had turned into a discussion of health insurance plans and medical woes! I guess I should be glad the virtues of a high-fiber diet didn't come up--maybe that will be the discussion in 10yrs.

They Thought of Me?

My brother shows me a picture just like this on his camera and says my niece thought of me when she saw it. What exactly does that mean??

Actually, I have been finding offensive little piles of "manure" in my fenced backyard recently and I am quite vexed. Some creature has been entering my yard under cover of darkness and defiling the premises! I water the flowers at dusk, the yard is pristine. I go out in the morning and there, in the middle of my grass, sits the offensive ordure. If it's a cat, why is it defying its nature? If it's a dog, how is it getting into my yard? Are the neighborhood pets uniting against me? Perhaps it's the pesky little dog next door who's forever yipping at me when I'm outside. Exulting in his sordid little victory! Curses!

Pickle Juice part II

Pickle juice doesn't cramp BYU football players' style

The blurry picture is "Pickle Juice Sport" made by  Golden Pickle.

I don't think I need to say anything else.

(original post Jan 6, 2009)

Weekend Water Woes

Saturday morning I woke up to the sound of a river under my window.

Broken riser catapulted across the yard.

Saturday night when I turned off the shower, I could still hear water running. What the heck? I had plugged the sink in anticipation of washing some stuff and forgot to turn off the water. That little overflow drain? Insufficient. I started laughing, ha ha, over the 2 inches of water on the floor until I realized the bathroom floor is probably not water tight, meaning it was probably raining in the family room. And yes, curses, it was! One of the vanity drawers was paritally open and caught like 3 gallons of water, thankfully. Who knew blow dryers could float? Left it outside to dry, may attempt to use it day after tomorrow.

The Big Day

Cheese!! I felt like a little bit of an imposter, but oh well.
 Proud moment for me mom and pop. When I introduced the dean of graduate studies to my mom, somehow she (my mother) managed to list the accomplishments of all her children and their spouses--starting with the MDs, of course.

Ghetto

Have I ever mentioned I live in the ghetto? I've always meant to move but somehow I keep staying.

This rusted out conduit (housing electrical wires) is a result
of leaky gutters funneling rain directly to the foundation
of my house.

Medicine cabinet opens directly onto light-bulb, nice.

Why cut when it can be broken?

Original tape job. I suppose that makes me a bonafide ghetto-dweller since I haven't bothered to remove it either.

Hideous.

Leaky rain gutters.

Owari. Finito. Done.

Just turned in my last assignment.

Neighborliness

Having a lawn that is contiguous with my neighbor's is tricky, I tell you. If they mow, should I hurry out and mow too so it doesn't look all messy? Do they hate it when I use the broadcast-spreader because their side gets fertilized when they don't want it to be? Is it rude to stop edging right at the property line? What if I accidently mow a row a little too far across? Eek! Not wanting to get iron stains all over the driveway I decided to use the drop spreader last time I fertilized and look what happened! Now I look like the totally selfish neighbor who didn't want to share even a sprinkle of fertilizer. Good grief.

I have edged all the way across, can't stop myself. I avoid all eye-contact with the neighbors post-edging.

Ingrown Toenails

Today I tried removing my third ingrown toenail ever--not my personal toenail, my third attempt on a real, live patient. I did great with the digital block, that's been my main problem before. Totally numb without any do-overs this time. Alas, the blasted nail was so embedded I couldn't just flip it out. I don't know if it was as bad as the picture below but I had a bit of a struggle, had to go ask for help.

 

I haven't had to deal with any plantar warts yet, this is just for gross-out purposes. Eew!!

New Spice

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ArIj236UHs&feature=related

I don't know if the link will work or not. It's a Youtube video called New Spice: Study like a scholar, scholar. I'd never seen the real commercial  http://www.youtube.com/user/oldspice?v=uLTIowBF0kE&feature=pyv&ad=5066079497&kw=old%20spice%20commercial&gclid=CLrAg9fX86ICFQQKbAodwRgylA   

Oh, holy cow, that's a big old link. It's an Old Spice commercial. Whatever happened to the sailor guy and the song? Or is that Irish Spring?

Just got notification my paper was accecpted for publication in JAANP--wahoo!

Midnight Post

Maybe Al Gore's next film really will be called, "Uncomfortable Secret." 

My phone rang at 1 AM today, jolting me out of sleep. It was a text message from my sister asking for information about Caspar Heinrich Osiek, just in case she decides to visit Borgelzhausen, Germany. "How long did he live there?", she asked.

Are you kidding me??  Good grief, kill me now.

Caspar's ye olde immigrant ancestor of unknown paternity who added an H to the family name causing 160 years of subsequent misspellings and mispronunciations.

Couldn't fall asleep, stayed up until 3AM reading the Idiot's Guide to Medical Spanish--Vamos a sacar su sangre. It's all good though, I slept during Sunday School instead. Sheesh.

Pioneer Trek

I spent 4 days last week tromping around Wyoming in a skirt. The wind almost never stops blowing and my face turned  immediately to leather.

All the handcarts.

Playing Ninja--I pretty much stink at this game.

Base Camp.

Your's truly on the left.

The storm on the horizon quickly caught up and spent the remainder of the day with us. It changed over to snow about 11:30 PM which we discovered when the wind blew down all our shelters--the first of several sleepless nights. Chilly!

Overall, good experience. Those pioneers--made of tougher stuff than I.

Bill Clinton's movie

So, this girl at work was asking, "Didn't Al Gore make a movie called 'Uncomfortable Secret' ?"
True story.  Hysterical!

Blasted Tree!

The darn tree roots completely mangled one of the sprinkler heads causing me much trauma. 1. Not enough space to stick my hand in. 2. Sprinkler totally embedded in a huge root. It was quite the effort to cut away enough of the roots so that I could unscrew the darn thing and cap it off. Curses!

Totally used a plumbers wrench, spoon, saw, rubber gloves--everthing pictured--to chisel, yank and twist. It took me a very long time. The tree is just waiting to drop more of its nasty seeds.

Little Dogs & Little Kids

Have you ever noticed it's the small dogs that are worst when it comes to barking and chasing you down the street?

As I was jogging about the neighborhood this morning there was a little boy outside with his mom who asked me, "Why are you running?" Ha, ha, ha!

It wasn't from the dachsund, I assure you.

May 10, 2010

I opened up my syllabus and discovered this, today. Kill me now.

Cutting the Grass

Apparently in Ireland they don't say , "I'm going to mow the lawn." They say, "I'm going to cut the grass."  I learned that in church 2 weeks ago.

The other day I was driving home and I passed a house with a guy on a massive riding mower/tractor in a teeny,tiny yard--like 12x15 ft!. It was so funny, wish I had a picture.

This past Sunday there was a special youth session at 0800 and so we had muffins (aka cake) for them at 0730. All the kids were coming in all puffy-eyed and sleepy looking. We were talking to one of the girls about being tired from getting up so early and she was like, "Yeah, I stayed up so late. I went to bed at 10 PM!"
Ha ha ha! Hilarious!

Nightmarish

I was listening to an interview on the radio last night as I drove home from work. The guy was some expert in the history of leeches in medicine.

So back in the days of bloodletting, leeches were a popular choice. They produced visible improvement of inflammation and were thus used anywhere there was swelling. His specific example was tonsils.

My throat is reflexively closing off .

Although effective at reducing the size of swollen tonsils, the leeches were problematic because once they had gorged themselves they would simply drop off, causing the patient to either (a) swallow them whole, or (b) choke and die as the fat leech occluded the airway.

The solution was to "pass a silk thread through one end of the leech" so that it could be pulled out once it was done feeding.

Fatso Gene

I've put on a few pounds recently...

Actually, I do not sport that much hair on my abdomen. I found this picture attached to an article about the Fatso (FTO) gene.  Get this, the Fatso gene was discovered in a mouse with Fused Toes, hence the FT part of the name (FT + Obesity = FTO.)

Hi, little mouse, we just mutated one of your genes and gave you deformed toes. Might that same defective gene also make you fat? What on earth, where do they come up with this stuff??  Igor, it's quite obvious the fused-toe mice are choosing hi-calorie mouse chow...

Cable vs Dial-up

I've spent the past 8 weeks meticulously recording and presenting histories and physicals in the ER, and even after writing everything I still have to refer to my papers. Somehow the docs, without taking a single note, are able to recall every blasted detail on every single patient. Hello, you have 10 patients, how do remember all this?

Then there's my 23 year old classmate who, having misread the calendar, put together a brilliant presentation during a 30 minute lunch break while the rest of us labored for hours the night before.

And, oh, I am not tone deaf but I'll spend like 20 minutes banging on the A key of the piano, trying to tune my cello. I show up for lessons and my teacher flinches when I play the open strings. "Can you hear it?" she asks. Help!

The geniuses are the ones who were doing long division while I was still trying to figure out which way the whale's mouth went for greater-than and less-than. That's New Math for you and I am clearly a victim. (Actually, I have no idea if that's New Math or not, lacking genius and all...)

I've decided what separates the geniuses from the rest of us are 1)  Photographic Memory  2)  Exceptional Insight 3) The organic equivalent of Cable vs Dial-up--whatever that may be.

Hamster

Japanese Body Type, Part II: Yo Matey Rhymes With Nates

Ok, I've been alerted that I missed a classic characteristic of the Japanese body type--flat nates (NEYteez.) How emabarrassing is that? The funny thing is, my classmate who is also half Japanese (and immortalized on this blog, wearing coconuts--Jan 2009, "Wait They're Not Real!"), is the one who called this to my attention! (For the record, she does not have flat nates.)

Genetically cursed from both sides of the family.

According to our friendly Wikipedia, "The gluteus maximus muscle...is a broad and thick fleshy mass of a quadrilateral shape, and forms the prominence of the nates. Its large size is one of the most characteristic features of the muscular system in humans, connected as it is with the power of maintaining the trunk in the erect posture. Other primates have much flatter buttocks."

Yo Matey, let me just make an X in the "Other Primate" box and head back to the trees.

Funny!

Hahaha!

(Courtesy of my sister.)

Dream Job

I always thought being a movie critic was the ultimate dream job--watch movies, eat popcorn, get paid. Then I realized, not only do you watch the good movies, you have to watch the really awful ones as well. On top of which, you'd have to stay to the bitter end in order to say the ending was predicatable or lame or whatever. Torture! How do they stand it?

(From Mo's reception at Ray's Boathouse, Seattle.)

I've decided the ultimate dream job is really Restaurant Critic. Food for self and friends on the newspaper's dime, check out all the new restaurants, order some of everything, no need to finish if it's nasty. My dilemma when eating out is always what to order. I invariably wish I'd chosen what someone else has by the time the food arrives and end up salivating over their food and disappointed with my own. Where was I going with this? Restaurant critic, multiple menu items, gastronomic satisfaction.

Comic Genius

Grainy, alas. I recommend re-runs of The King of Queens, Jerry Stiller is a comic genius! Plus, as I am fascinated with body proportions, his arms seem unusually long and I can't quit looking at them. Simian-like.

Speaking of simians, I went to see Elton John and Billy Joel last night and Elton John was kind of like a funny little monkey scurrying around and hopping up on his piano. Kind of reminded me of Mike Myers prancing around in his BVDs in Wayne's World--only Elton John was fully clothed. Maybe that's rude. Maybe I won't be getting any free concert tickets.

The concert was great save for the fact that we seemed to be sitting in the large-view-obstructing-head section. It was like some weird dance: He shifts forward, we shift left, he leans back, we lean right. Maddening.

Update on my life: Lots of unusual people in the Emergency Room. I saw a guy who kept talking about demons and asked if I could see them. Trying to maintain a professional demeanor, "Uh, no, I don't see demons." Somebody? Help?

Ode to Stress II

This is what school/stress does:

My stomach was killing me, but I decided against the $4 mini-bottle of Mylanta in the BYU bookstore--price gouging! I endured for the next 5hrs until I could get to a grocery store at which point I was ready to break open a bottle there in the antacids aisle (which I have done once...), but I restrained myself until I got to the parking lot. Yum. Chalky, minty, smooth.

The fake tums on the other hand...You know how public restrooms have those gross, fruity-smelling "air-fresheners" (not the word I'd choose) that when combined with the other assaulting odors are positively nauseating? Well, that's pretty much how those little Kroger antacid tablets taste. Pitooey!

Look what I just got!

That's me olde dad exiting the car. He was rumaging around in all the different compartments on the drive home, kind of like a little racoon. Hilarious!

This is my third car. I've purchased a car about every ten years and they've doubled in price almost exactly each time, uncanny.