Monday, January 31, 2011
As the delivery dude was unhooking my old washer, he started giving me some crap about how the cold water valve won't shut off and uh-oh there's a problem and blahblahblah and I was all, like, Dude, I don't wanna hear it. Figure it out. Because EVERY GODDAMN TIME a delivery dude shows up with some new piece of something or other that cost me a bazillion bucks, there's ALWAYS some problem with some whatzit or whatever that I MUST HAVE REPLACED RIGHT AWAY and ... No. No more replacing bullshit that doesn't need to be replaced just because some delivery dude making ten bucks an hour tells me that I have to do this or that or
wow. I guess that struck a nerve, eh? ANYway, no I did not replace the valve, and yes the new washer was installed, and no the world did not end, so THAT's over with.
Did you know you can make forsythia bloom in the winter? Just cut off a few branches, bring 'em inside, plop them in some water, and two weeks later, Voila!
And yes, that IS a Christmas poinsettia in the background. Every year I buy a poinsettia, and every year it's still hanging around in MARCH, with me too soft-hearted to ashcan it.
My new rug! Let me show you it:
The cats give it their "meh" of approval.
The deer were hoping that my neighbor had filled her birdfeeder:
And finally, an afternoon snooze:
Another weekend over.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Then! A couple of nights ago, the camera was flaking out on me. It kept saying "memory full", even though there were, like, three pics on there. When in doubt, reboot, so I pulled the batteries and the memory card and re-inserted them.
And the photos from Christmas day reappeared! Spooky. Let me present Phantom Photos:
Old barns are cool. Especially working barns, i.e., barns that are still being used to store farm machinery and animals, as opposed to the owner's project car.
These guys were really curious about the person walking by their pasture. Next time I go that way, I should take along a couple of apples for them. If I'm not mistaken, Sugar Creek flows through that little ravine behind them.
Aren't these chickens cool-looking? They were huddled up along the side of a shed, keeping each other warm. I love all the different colors. Folks out this way like their chickens fancy.
And here's a question: How do the chickens know how to stay out of the road? There are several farms on this road where the people let their chickens roam free, and while I often see chickens right on the edge of the road, I've never seen one actually in the road, either alive or ... you know.
Hmm. Maybe all those jokes were wrong. Maybe chickens don't cross the road after all.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
I don't know why I first noticed that particular house; maybe because it's on a corner lot on the main road, or maybe because it's a little one-story house like mine, or maybe because of the handicap ramp jutting out into the driveway, reminding me that we all get old.
It was an old man who lived there; in the summertime, I'd see him sitting in his wheelchair in the side yard, catching some sun.
He got up early in the morning; his house was always all lit up when I'd pass by on my way to work, and I often thought that if I didn't have to go to my job, I sure as heck wouldn't be up that early.
Last Saturday, I noticed that there were a ton of cars parked on the street in front of his house. Oh! I thought. Maybe his family's throwing him a birthday party!
And then on Sunday, the cars were still there. And on Monday. Oh dear, I thought. I hope he's not sick. Or, you know ... worse.
And then when I drove by this morning, the handicap ramp had been dismantled and was lying in pieces in the snow of the side yard.
I wonder who'll buy the house? Maybe a family with kids, filling the place up with energy and laughter again. Maybe someone like me, a middle-aged lady with a couple of cats looking for someplace quiet to settle.
Goodbye, old man. I never really knew you, but I kind of felt like I did. Just from driving by.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Now, click here to check out my wish list.
What do you think?
I like Rug #1, because of the color scheme. Oh, and by the way, I am DETERMINED to have something predominantly green, so it will look like I'm walking on grass when I walk on the rug.
I am strange.
Okay! So I like Rug #1, but I ALSO like Rug #2, because of the unusual shape. And Rug #3, because wouldn't it be fun to have a round rug? And I like the rest of them as well.
Help a gal out, would ya? Which one shall I pick?
So! I've been looking for a new area rug for the living room. The one currently in there was a forty-dollar Big Lots special, and a scant year-and-a-half after I bought it, it's pretty much beat.
I've been looking on line, of course, which ... have you ever tried shopping for a rug on line? I DO NOT HAVE TIME to look at 1,293 rugs, which is the average number of rugs on rug websites.
So this past weekend I went to various department stores, carpet outlets, big-box stores, blahblahblah (because I DO, evidently, have time to look at 1,293 rugs in actual STORES) and of COURSE I ended up at Home Depot, which is where I always end up sooner or later, no matter what I'm shopping for.
And they had some rugs draped across this platform thingie, a closeout special, a hundred-and-seventeen-bucks-each, and I was just kind of pawing through the rugs, la la la la la, when out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a woman sitting on a pile of nearby rugs. And she had a man with her. And also a dachshund, with a little doggie sweater on.
She had a flippin' dachshund. In Home Depot. Sitting on top of a pile of rugs.
So I'm trying my VERY BEST to not be rude and to just ignore the circus act one pile of rugs over, when the woman says, in a heavy Russian accent,
"Do you want to see these rugs?" (Try to imagine the Russian accent, okay?)
"Excuse me?", I said.
"These rugs!," she said, "These rugs we are sitting on! Did you want to look at them?"
"Oh, no, that's okay," I said. "I'm looking for a smaller rug, like these over here."
She got up off her pile of rugs and came over to me, while the man with her held onto the dachshund. She was a tiny little thing, younger than I am. And much cuter.
"You know", she said, and I noticed that her mascara was baby blue. She really had to cake it on to get the blue to cover up her dark lashes. And it was only, like, in the middle of her upper lashes. Maybe that's Russian chic, I thought. "These rugs are all made in China. That's no good. There's a web site, where you can buy rugs from Iran, real Persian rugs, and there is free shipping! It's e-sale-rugs dot com."
Oh great, I thought. I'm about to be captured and sold into white slavery by a rug-peddling Russian with blue mascara. She and her cohort and the dachshund will follow me out to the parking lot and club me over the head and the next thing you know, I'll wake up in a Russian brothel. Or, you know, I'll decide to check out that web site, only to click on it and have some world-dominating virus activate on my PC and infect the entire east coast.
So, I had her write down the name of the website, haha, because who isn't up for a little PC-eating virus activity on a freezing cold Sunday afternoon, that's what I want to know.
But! I had to wait until yesterday morning to look up the site, (because I am a Luddite and have no PC at home, and anyway, if I'm going to activate some world-destroying virus, it's gonna be on a WORK computer, dammit) and it's a legitimate site! With faaaaaabulous prices on rugs! (eSalerugs dot com, if anyone's interested). AND you can sort through the rugs by size and color group and shape, which narrows things down A TON. And free! shipping!
Oh, Russian woman with the dachshund in Home Depot, I am sorry I doubted you. You ROCK that baby-blue mascara.
Now! Who wants to help me pick out a rug?
Monday, January 24, 2011
I ran out of ketchup on Saturday night, which ... how does that even happen? I thought ketchup was one of those self-replenishing condiments.
I managed to sneak a few more loads out of the old washer. It could have been a clustermess of epic proportions, but I lucked out. The new washer comes this Saturday. Yay!
Saturday morning I laid* in bed watching Little Girl chatter away. She was up on the dresser, looking out the window, watching a bird or something. When the excitement's more than she can take, she starts to open and shut her mouth, rapid-fire, making a little "click-click-click" noise. It's cute as hell. She's wishing she was outside eating the HELL out of that bird.
It's been really cold here at night, obv. I noticed the other morning that my neighbor's windshield wipers were pointing toward the sky. At first I thought maybe one of his grandkids had done it as a joke, but now I notice that every morning, the windshield wipers on both his and his wife's cars are pulled away from the windshields. Now, this is the neighbor who insisted that he couldn't park on his driveway for FIVE WEEKS after it was repaved, to give it time to "cure", so he's got some pretty out-there theories, but this windshield-wiper thing was new one on me. I am assuming that it is ... I don't know ... to keep the wipers from freezing to the windshield? YA GOT ME. Anybody?
Oh, and maaaaan, I shoulda put some money on those games yesterday, 'cause I called both of 'em. The only surprise was that the Steelers didn't beat up on the Jets worse than they did.
How cold was it at your place this morning? Can anybody beat my fourteen-below?
*Is that right? I have no idea.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Okay, first off, scroll down to read about how AFLAC salespeople are the scum of the earth.
Now, on to Freaky Friday!
I picked up this lion at the three-things-for-ten-bucks booth in an Ithaca antique store*.
I've got a thing for cool shit with big teeth, evidently.
*The Ithaca Antique Center, to be precise. I will gladly give them a free plug here, because their store is AWESOME.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Let me tell you a little story about AFLAC.
Some years ago, a team of AFLAC solicitors showed up at the office. They always travel in packs, usually four to a car, and they always send two people to the door.
This particular couple started giving me the ol' hard sell, even after I TOLD them that while they could leave literature for the owner if they liked, there was no way they were going to get in to see him that day.
They started pushing harder. AFLAC, in case you don't know, is supplemental insurance, and they started asking me all kinds of questions about my own insurance. And if I was married. And if I had kids, and when I said "no", they wanted to know WHY I had no children.
At which point I blew my top.
And asked them to leave the office.
I practically had to SHOVE those two salesmen out the door, with them protesting the entire time.
Once they FINALLY left, I went on line, so angry I was shaking, and contacted AFLAC customer service. I let them know, in no uncertain terms, that they were NEVER to send AFLAC salesmen to our door again, and why. Namely, because a salesman asking a woman why she never had any kids is basically so far out of line it's ridiculous.
Flash forward to yesterday, when a man and a woman showed up at the door. When I asked if I could help them, they asked to see the boss. When I asked where they were from, meaning, "what company" (duh), they answered with the name of our town. Thinking maybe they actually were with City administration, as we deal with a lot of code enforcement people, I asked them what department they were with.
"Oh, no, you misunderstood", the guy said. "We just LIVE here."
Losing my patience at this point, I said, "How can I make this clearer? WHAT COMPANY DO YOU REPRESENT?"
"Aflac", the dude responded.
"You have to leave right now", I said. "AFLAC has been informed that they are NOT to send sales reps here, ever."
"Why?" the dude asked.
"It doesn't matter," I said. "You are to leave this office right now."
The asshole put up a fight, protesting and stalling and BLOCKING THE DOOR, until I finally went around my desk, pushed past him, PRIED THE DOORKNOB OUT OF HIS HANDS, and assisted him and his cohort out the door.
AFLAC, I am warning you right now. The next time you send salespeople to my door, it ain't gonna be pretty. Oh, and also? You might want to rein in your sales reps. A LOT. I'm sure I'm not the only one who's sick of their shit. Take your f*cking duck and shove it.
Thank you, Steven Tyler.
I've never heard that particular adage before, and from nosing around on line it appears that he usually says it as "Shit fire and save matches, f*ck a duck and see what hatches", but still, it was a good start to what is promising to be another excruciating season of American Idol, aka, "Is this really the best America can do, vocalist-wise?"
I might keep tuning in just to see what comes out of ol' Steve's mouth next.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Not particularly, I thought to myself. I know by the way my skirt zipped up this morning that I've gained a leeetle weight.
I've never struggled with my weight, other than the obligatory peer-pressure diets I endured when I was a teenager. Never really given it that much thought, other than to lay off the donuts for-the-love-of-Christ.
And then I quit smoking.
And evidently smoking really DOES keep you thin, because now? I have to do my Jillian Michaels a few times a week to keep from blowing up into epic proportions. Come summer, when I'm hiking and mowing the lawn and gardening and wading in the creek, I will not have this problem, but here in the middle of January? Aeeeeesh.
Actually, if I could just gain a pound or so in my FACE, I'd be happy. Nobody ever told me that with age comes gauntitude. I had to learn that one for myself. Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure that the only way to gain weight in my face is to gain it all over the place, so, yeah, not so much.
Oh! And for something completely unrelated, I went to Home Depot and bought a new washer last night. I really wanted to use the local guy, but after he sold me a washer that shit the bed after a YEAR, I decided against it and went with the corporate behemoth who is squashing the small businessman under its mighty heel.
Just call me Miss Sellout. They have free! delivery! And they will deliver on a Saturday, so I don't have to miss work! SOLD.
ANYway, the guy at Home Depot is typing up my delivery order, and it turns out he lives one street away from me. And knows a bunch of my ex-in-laws, AND his daughter went to school with one of my nieces andandand
this really is WAAAAY too small of a town.
So! Shot in the butt, and a new washer. It's pure excitement over here.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Flash forward to Saturday, when the washer decided to create Lake Soapsuds in my garage, and this morning, when the washer/dryer guy's repairman informed me that the tub seal was shot, and that it would cost three-fifty to fix.
Was it rude of me to actually burst out laughing when he gave me the number?
No, I am not going to pay three-fifty to fix a machine that only lasted for a YEAR before giving up the ghost. (Kenmore Series 80, if anybody's curious.) And now, of course, washer/dryer dude is trying to convince me to let him sell me a brandy-new washer for the lowlow bargain price of two-ninety-eight.
And, of course, we still have to factor in that he charged me seventy-five bucks to send out a repairman to tell me that it would cost far more to repair my washer, THAT HE SOLD ME, than the washer is worth.
Man, I hope spring hurries up and gets here. It's a long damn winter.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Now, back in November, I had new windows installed in the house. I actually started shopping around last summer, inviting various contractors to come out to the house and submit prices.
The contractor I finally chose did not have the lowest price, but he did have a higher-quality window than the low-price guys. He had been in the area for many years, was a member of the BBB with no complaints filed against him, and got great reviews on the local web forums. He asked for a down payment on the cost of the windows, which I thought was reasonable, as they were not a standard size and had to be made specially for this installation., and the other contractors I spoke with also wanted money down on the windows.
The day of the big install came, and even though it was pouring rain, the installation guys showed up on time and did a great job. The contractor stopped by a couple of times to make sure everything was going okay. He didn't even send me a bill for the labor until a couple of weeks after the job was done.
So imagine my surprise when, a couple of weeks ago, in those same web forums where people had praised him so highly, grumblings started to be heard. Pretty soon, a local news station picked up the story.
The contractor had skipped town. Took a bunch of people's window deposits, shut his doors, and vamoosed.
Man, I'm starting to think I'm a really bad judge of character, because I really liked this guy. He seemed personable and professional and ... oh boy, he's starting to sound like Dr. M, isn't he?
ANYWAY, the window warranty is through the manufacturer, not the contractor, so I'm not out anything. But evidently I COULD have been, if the timing had been different. I mean, I did get a receipt for the money I put down on the windows (of course), but if the guy skips town, I guess a receipt doesn't make much difference.
Which leads me to wonder, who CAN you trust?
And oh my God, the local authorities caught him this past week. He had fled all the way to ... Connecticut.
If you're going to steal a bunch of people's money and skip town, shouldn't you go as far away as possible? I mean, at LEAST across the border into Mexico, and preferably someplace like Brazil or Switzerland or something.
They say it's the dumb ones who get caught, and evidently, that's true.
Friday, January 14, 2011
2. Filters for the coffeemaker.
3. Coffee for the coffeemaker.
4. Coffee creamer. And a little pitcher-thing for the creamer. See also: Sugar bowl.
I should clarify here; I DO drink coffee at home, occasionally; I just drink the instant stuff, because who wants to screw with that coffeemaker bullshit? Too much effort. And I just throw some milk in, because a carton of half-and-half would go bad in my fridge approximately two years before I'd ever use it up. And as far as sugar, I just throw in a packet of Nutrasweet or whatever that shit that kills rats is. I do have some regular sugar; I use it in the hummingbird feeder in the summer, which means that the sugar on hand is less than a year old, so I'm safe there. But I did have to buy a sugar bowl. This is getting pricy.
5. Every last single ingredient for the cookies (except for the sugar), right down to the flour and baking soda, because while I do HAVE that stuff, I'm pretty sure it came with me in the move, meaning the shit's at LEAST a year-and-a-half old, and possibly older than that by ... several decades or so.
It's a good thing it's the 2010s and not the fifties, because I would've made a suck-ass housewife.
Oh, and of course, I REALLY wanted to have her over for beer and pizza, except:
1. I don't think she drinks.
2. There's that whole "pizza allergy" fiasco, which
3. means that I should probably just admit that I pretty much fail at this whole "neighbor" thing.
I wonder how she'll like the deer bone display.
I think at this point I should reconsider. Cut my losses before it's too late.
That's The Runt obstinately refusing to model in the foreground. See how his ears are back?
"What do I look like?," he says. "One of those Price-is-Right chicks? Forget about it! I'm just passin' through, here."
And no, that's not a chia pet on the right - it's the cats' greens. To the left of the parasol is a little wicker gazebo, just ... because.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
The prosecuting attorney explained it this way: Okay, so your car's parked out in the court parking lot this morning. Are you pretty sure it's out there, right now? Yes? That's reasonable. You are sure, beyond a reasonable doubt, that your car is out there.
Now, theoretically, a tidal wave could have swept the car away, or aliens could have beamed it up, so you're not sure beyond ALL doubt that the car is there. You're just sure beyond a REASONABLE doubt that the car is there.
Then the defendant's attorney explained how there can be varying degrees of reasonable doubt. "Let's talk about your car", he said. "If I bet you ten bucks that your car was NOT out in the parking lot, would you take it? Sure! Easy money! Because you're sure, beyond a reasonable doubt, that the car is out there. But now let's say we made the same bet, whether or not your car was in the parking lot, but if you're wrong, I'm going to take out a gun and shoot you. Still sure beyond a reasonable doubt? Still want to take the bet?"
What he was trying to get at, I'm pretty sure, was that his client was not on trial for genocide or child abuse or something. She was on trial for drinking and driving, and thus there was a little more wiggle room, reasonable-doubt wise.
Interesting point, if kind of, well, indelicate, I guess.
And it did give me something to mull over.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
She was back on the front page of the paper the other day. She built a mausoleum on her property so she could get the bodies back.
Why did they let her do that? You know she's just gonna take 'em out and play with 'em.
Oh! And now she's talking about getting other family corpses back, too. It'll be a regular family reunion!
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
For one thing, they're still showing that same damn introduction-to-the-courts video they were showing the last time I got called for jury duty, which has to have been at LEAST six years ago.
It's narrated by Ed Bradley, which, not to put too fine a point on it, but is he even still alive?
ANYhow, they seated a jury before I got called for questioning, so I'm off the hook. Frankly, I would have had a hard time with the case, which was a young woman who got pulled over for drunk driving and refused a breathalyzer, so welcome to the court system.
For one thing, I have a niece who is going through the same thing right now, and I think she's possibly guilty. But! Without a breathalyzer, how do you know what the blood alcohol is? What does .08 look like, exactly? Does .o8 look the same on everybody? How do you tell if someone's at .08 and not, say, .07?
Oh! But the defendant was not going to testify, which, um, why would you not testify on your own behalf, unless it's going to hurt your case? EXACTLY.
This, my friends, is why I'm always a bridesmaid and never a bride. Often called, but never serving.
Oh! Oh! And I was one of the few potential jurors NOT wearing jeans and ratty sneakers. What is UP with that? And the unwashed hair! Holy shit! And there was this pair of old farts sitting there chewing giant wads of gum like they were chewing cuds. Jeezus christ.
And then I looked at the defendant, and SHE was wearing jeans.
What. the. fuck. You're on TRIAL, in a criminal COURT, and the best you can do is jeans? Really?
This country's going to shit, I'll tell you that right now.
Oh, and hey, kids, GET OFF MY LAWN.
Oh! But I did get to see my old elementary-school bus driver, which was kinda cool. And he's serving on the jury right this very minute. Sorry about that, Mr. Breed.
Just for the record? I think she's GUILTYGUILTYGUILTY.
Bet she's glad I'm not on the jury.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Boy oh boy, that thing sits quite a bit higher than the Saturn - I feel like I'm driving a dang truck.
Speaking of which, what would you call that? An SUV? A wagon?
And what the hell is that color? Red? Burgundy? Orange?!
Regardless, it's mine now. And I actually paid less for this than I did for the piece-of-shit Saturn. Even if the Rondo turns out to be as crappy as the Saturn, which frankly I don't think is even possible, I'm still coming out ahead.
Anybody need a ride?
Saturday, January 08, 2011
Friday, January 07, 2011
Oh! Also, I guess I really AM a non-smoker now, 'cause when I test-drove the Kia yesterday, I never even looked to see if there was an ashtray. It never even crossed my mind. Hmph!
Now! Last night I watched "Up", the cartoon movie that came out a couple of years ago. It's about this crabby-ass old dude and his boy scout sidekick who go on an adventure to Brazil or someplace.
You can tell I was paying really close attention.
ANYhow, I really liked the first part, but then I went and did something else for a few minutes, and when I came back there was some giant bird and a bunch of talking dogs and I was all, like, "as if!", which is pretty funny because if you've seen the movie, you know that if I can buy the plot line about how they GOT to Brazil I should have no problems with talking dogs and
wait ... where was I?
Okay, so the movie is good and I recommend it and all, but you know what drives me CRAZY about cartoon movies?
It's how they always have to put the protagonists into EXTREME PERIL before they get their happy ending. (Whoops. THAT sounded awful. Sorry.)
Over the holidays, I was subject to quite a few cartoon movies, thanks to a three-year-old controlling the TV programming at my sister's house, which we are not even going to get INTO right now, but anyway, all these damn kiddie movies make the heroes practically DIE before they go off into the sunset. What's UP with that?
I mean, in real life, I can safely say that I have never been chased by a hundred-strong pack of vicious dogs. Or dangled by a rope ten thousand feet in the sky and almost fell. Or forced to work on a subterranean chain gang. Or had my mother SHOT TO DEATH BY HUNTERS. (I'm talkin' to YOU, Bambi.) I'm pretty sure that almost NO ONE, in real life, has ever experienced these things.
So why do cartoons make it look like this shit happens ALL THE TIME? No wonder kids these days are all f*cked up. They think that the next time they open the damn front door, a giant wolf is gonna be there to swallow them whole or something.
Okay! That's my rant! "Up" is pretty good, if you can handle the suspenseful parts, which OBVIOUSLY I had a hard time dealing with, but that's because I am a preshus flower. Recommended!
Back soon with Freaky Friday!
UPDATE: If you haven't seen "Up" yet, BNG throws out some pretty big spoilers in the comments. Just so you know!
Thursday, January 06, 2011
Seriously, this whole thing is giving me a headache. Do I fix the Saturn or dump it? In which case, I need a new car. Another wagon? An SUV? Which make? What year? Which options? Four cylinders or six? (Well, six, obv.)
Oh, the PRESSURE is killing me. My head is pounding.
And I'm about to test drive a Kia Rondo. (?) Wish me luck!
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
ANYhow, I was looking through the TV listings, and there's this show on PBS called "Masters of Ice". Which, okay, maybe it's a doc about ice carvers, or diamond merchants, or molecular biologists, or who knows what. But whatever it is, I'll bet it's not nearly as interesting as the way I read the listing, which was "Hamsters of Ice."
hahahahahahaha now there's a show I'd watch.
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
I think this was probably the earliest I've ever taken the tree down. It's not that I'm all grinchy this year or anything; I just took a look at that tree Sunday morning and thought, "I'm really kind of over that."
I mean, that glorious, fabulous pine smell had pretty much dissipated, and if you brushed against a bottom branch when filling the stand a shower of needles would rain down, but really, those are just excuses.
It was blocking the sun and I wanted it down and out it went*. The porch decorations and the mailbox garland and all the outside stuff is still up, but the tree is history.
How about you? Tree still up, or down already?
Oh! And in other weekend news, it hit fifty here on Saturday, which means I was out in the driveway in my ski jacket, washing the car. Hell, make hay while the sun shines and all that.
And then! Sunday, I was backing out of the driveway when I heard a giant "BAM!" from underneath the car. Judging by the way it's now listing to port, I think I probably busted a shock or a spring or something. Which is what happens when you own a Saturn: Shit breaks when you're backing out of the driveway. No wonder they don't make 'em anymore. Oh, and you can scroll down to the post below, where we're playing a little guessing game about how much the repairs are gonna cost.
*Truly? This is one of the best things about living alone. No negotiations, no "Well, maybe we should leave it up for one more week", no having your partner promise to take care of it and then he doesn't take care of it and pretty soon it's almost FEBRUARY and there's an ugly fight about how he NEVER does what he says he'll do and
man, I'm glad I live alone. Holy shit.
Sunday morning I was backing out of the driveway when I heard a loud "BAM!" Thinking I had run over a garbage can or something, I got out of the car and looked underneath.
Except now, the driver's side of the car looks like it's low.
I'm guessing rear spring.
One of my colleagues took a look at it, and he thinks it's the front strut.
I'm guessing $298.03.
Care to guess?