Here's a representative tale of my life and how I live it: I've been anxious because the extended warranty on my car is about to run out. The extended warranty has more than paid for itself, and that safety net has given me the kind of peace of mind that someone with a 1997 Saturn needs. A one-year warranty. One year, that's all I got. And my car makes funny noises, has odd crochets, could break down any minute. And in a city with nominal public transportation, a car breakdown can bring one's life to a long halt.
So on top of feeling ill I've been all stressed about the safety net being yanked away. The other night, out of grim curiosity I pulled out the paperwork to find out what the exact expiration date will be.
It's December 08.
I've got another year.
It's a relief, but why did I spend all that time stressing? What kind of nincompoop thinks he's got a one-year warranty when he's got two years? This is the way I stumble through life. Gimmee a beer.