Great.
Gramps took my car to his nephew. It was just fine, nothing wrong with it.
Until they switched the battery. And that was the moment when Goldscythe (the
nickname that I gave to my Toyota Avensis) decided to prove she is a
Decepticon. The radio died again. Again. For good. Thank heavens I took the
Cain's Offering CD Gather the Faithful outta there. They tried everything to
get it back to work, but no avail. The goddamn problem radio stayed blank.
Gramps is gonna buy a cheap external player with CD, radio and MP3 hookup to
it. I have my doubts. He complains about my financial situation, but then he
does that, spends money on me. Rarely, but still...
I'm tired
and sore. Both physically and mentally. I feel useless. I guess my only option
would be send an email to the curator, but I'm an awkward person when it comes
asking things. No wonder all my penpals quit writing with me, since I don't ask
any questions. Usually. In the workshop, all the little questions, like simple
one like: Why? was met with irritation and claims that I'm highly negative
person. No wonder I stopped questioning anything. I'm raising my hands in
defeat.
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