Earlier tonight, as I was feverishly trying to extract my box 'o Chaz and my gym bag from the back seat of my car, so I could get into the house and minimize the amount of basketball I was missing, I heard a car start.
I looked around, and there wasn't a car starting up around me. Oh my. All of my dash and instrument lights are on. And I hear Ryan Adams. The car that started? It was mine. Holy shit. MY CAR HAS COME TO LIFE. She's going to start killing those who have wronged me. Awesome!
I mean ... Oh no. How ... awful?
Apparently, I have a remote starter in my car. Or I'm driving Christine II. I didn't actually try to replicate starting the car with no keys in the ignition. Why would I do that? I WAS MISSING BASKETBALL. I've had this car for nearly two months and had no idea there was a remote starter. Called my dad to see if he'd just forgotten to tell me that and he had no idea either. It wasn't indicated anywhere when I bought the car.
So, I have a free remote starter in my car! I mean, I think. This could very well be a demon car. And quite frankly, as long as she runs well and kills people on her own time, I think I'm okay with that.
This is a pretty sweet surprise in an otherwise blah week. The weather has blown goats. Work has been very busy, with much working late. And while the week has flown by, individual days have dragged. Not to mention that I've been seriously ugly this week. My skin took the one or two nice days we had as a cue to go absolutely fucking bitchcakes. Seriously, I looked like Colton Iverson a couple of days ago.
But my skin is clearing, I had an awesome week of yoga (I fucking rocked Monkey Pose last night and Wheel Pose on Monday) tomorrow is Friday, there is much basketball to be watched and this bullshit weather can't last forever. Oh, and I have a remote starter for next winter.