I swear that now I will stop flogging the dead horse of the time somebody bent my radio antenna at Congaree National Park. Readers do NOT have to start a collection to help me get it repaired. (It would be nice if you would put me up for either the MacArthur genius grant or for canonization, but that's another story.)
All I want to say about this further is that whoever did it did me a favor. Since I bought the car and maybe since Alice bought the car (she bought it used in an emergency situation; I bought it from her in another one), that antenna has tried to raise itself automatically every time the ignition is turned on and to lower itself every time it's turned off. Poor thing just couldn't do it. I actually had contracted with the Toyota Center to fix it along with some other work they were doing but they forgot to do it so I just told them to skip it. It wasn't a major annoyance, just one of the little ones that get on your nerves slightly. So I have to thank the dipstick who bent it and finally stopped the futile attempts at raising and lowering. Nice work, accidentally.
Things in Johnville suddenly improved markedly, as it had started looking like Dad's sweetheart (in whose house he lives) would have to go to the hospital for at least a few days. He was planning to stay by himself and have me take him out to local country cookin' restaurant Lizard's Thicket twice a day. Fortunately, she didn't have to go, so we didn't have to see if he could safely stay by himself. And she's fine. So double yay!
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