If I were of a more traditional disposition, and inclined to pay credence to superstitions and omens, today I would have locked myself up in my house and quietly waited for the day to expire. After having an entirely unsatisfying sleep, being erroneously woken up by Fulvia at 4am (she is more concerned that I make it to my morning training sessions than I am) then waking up at 5:30 and too tired to attempt a tough morning session. I'll have to get there thurs and fri. After passing out once again, I was woken by the obnoxious chime of the doorbell. It was Daniel, the complex care taker and harbinger of woe. I have a flat tire. Great. So Daniel very kindly swaps the flat for the ridiculous marie biscuit spare while I get dressed. As I'm walking around gathering all the accoutrements necessary for me to survive a day in this complicated life, Fulvia calls me to see something in the kitchen. A 1 litre beer glass, which I acquired during ignominious varsity student days, has developed a mysterious Anne of Boleyn complex. Left to rest bottom up on the drying rack over night, the glass has neatly split along the base. Creepy. If I were a yank, I would suspect poltergeist involvement. So, here I am at tiger wheel and tire. The invisible culprit is a faulty valve. Easily replaced. Not so easily rectified is that this tire has also been found to be a little lob sided. Perfect. It should be ok, as long as It's on the back wheel. That's ok, but when it gets to tire rotating time, there will be issues. I'm going to have to contact the dealer who sold me the car and see if they are sympathetic. At 4g's a pop (absolutely zero pun intended) it is certainly worth the effort. Now, off to work to see what else this dreary jo'burg day has in store for me. Over and out.
No comments:
Post a Comment