Pouring

It never rains but it pours.

Lovely saying. I think I shall write it prettily upon a tidy little scrappet of dainty, scented, embossed stationery, tuck it into a exquisitely hand-decorated parchment envelope and then stomp on it.

Yes. That would be lovely. Most satisfying.

Great Scott's car had an altercation with a deer on the way home last night. Deer and cars are not friends. Not even on speaking terms. Not, that is, unless you count "Bleeeettt!!!" (uttered by the deer) as a speaking term. The car left the scene of the accident upright. The deer did not. The car, however, did not escape unscathed. We will be taking it for trips to a body shop and a mechanic.

My own car just got back from the mechanic a few weeks ago. The coolant system was having difficulties. We were told that if the measures he'd taken didn't do the trick, we would be looking at a repair costing several hundred dollars. Last night shortly before Great Scott arrived home from his car's unhappy deer incident, I discovered, that indeed, the trick had not been done.

"Not a problem," my dad assured us. He still isn't driving, so my mother prepared to pop over to loan us her car (and drive his truck) again while Great Scott's is out of commission. Mom's car wouldn't start.

If we had a horse, its legs would drop off.