Canadian Tire. Just Tires Today, Thanks.

Was SUPPOSED to go to the Thrift Store today to work.

(Bless me Thrift Store, for it has been 13 days since I’ve done a shift.)

My routine on Thrift Store day, is to stop at the Tim Hortons and get a tea and something gross to eat before heading in. Everything was fine, until I came OUT of the Timmies with my hands full of a LARGE tea and goobey stuff, and noticed my car seemed to look TIRED.

It was all LEANING over and slumpy.

Drivers side front tire was FLAT. Again. ( Yes, the same tire that did the same thing in the Awesome. Shit. post I wrote in November.) So, I call CAA.

I wait on the phone for 30 minutes for CAA to just pick up. Because it’s all the snowy weather up here and I’m sure they are busy as shit with people in ditches and stuff. Highways closed, school buses cancelled, blowing snow, and all that rot.)

Texted the Boss Lady to tell her I was going to be late.

Anyway, they came 45 minutes AFTER that. And the Handsome Garage Man in the flourescent orange suit from the garage gave me PROPER shit for even trying to drive on the tires in the first place. Told me I should have my husband make sure I have all my insurance up to date and that I have a will in place. What was I thinking?

(Mainly I was thinking I was told that the front ones were winter, and the back ones were all season when they went on… and what the fuck do I know about tires? This explains the fucking smack up on Sunday a little better though. And there IS no husband, thank you.)

Anyway, Handsome Garage Man put the sad looking donut wheel on, gave me explicit instructions on how to drive very very very slow straight to the garage and get some proper snow tires.

(Even though he was brutally honest, I guess I must have needed to hear that shit today.)

Home was closer than the garage. And, seeing how the garage I went to put those tires on in the first place, I figured a different place would be better. I totally called Canadian Tire.

They had tires. And if I could get up there NOW, They could fit me in ASAP.

Mary Mudder o’ Gawd, Yes, I’ll be right there.

Crawled my donut drivin car up to the CT, and wandered around buying shit I don’t need for an hour.
The Beautiful Man (not to be confused with the Handsome Garage Man…) texted me back and forth, encouraging me not to buy things like an Axe, or a Potty in a Box. He also texted at one point:

“If the Tire Police find you, tell them your HUSBAND sent you!” (which is a running gag about not being allowed into CT unescorted.)

Then I teased him mercilessly about the word HUSBAND, because… well, we both have issues with marriage. Yuck. And, it was the second time it came up today… The husband should get insurance and all…
Anyway, after about an hour, they paged me over the intercom to come to Automotive. (I felt like a real rock star hearing my name over the Canadian Tire loud speaker system. Ya know’s yer a player when dat goes down, eh.)

The tires with all the fees and blaa blaa blaa came to $530. But I have winter tires now.

Oh, and I was HOPING to get a fuck wad of Canadian Tire money from this… But I guess you don’t get that when you purchase actual tires at Canadian Tire.

Where's Ma Money, Bitch?

Oh, and $31 worth of shit in my hour of browsing. But all of it went on my credit card, so what-the-fuck anyway.

Didn’t make it to the Thrift Store at all for my $53 dollar shift.

Dear Universe: I am OPEN. I am LISTENING. Can you PULEEZE be exceedingly clear on what it is I am to be learning from this week? Kay, Thanks. It’s been a long ass week, and it’s only Tuesday.

Love, Gracie.