mechanic messes

sad to say my dear focus, aka Tommy Boy, died on me yesterday morning. with a million places to go and no way of getting there, bless Andrew for loaning me his car, aka Lucious Champagne (the names are absurd, I know, but it makes our otherwise bland cars fun.) but I can only steal L.C. for so long. attempts to charge Tommy failed miserably...apparently I'm lacking in knowledge of the lifespan of car batteries (why wasn't I taught this back in high school? it seems much more useful to me than pre-cal ever will be. but I digress.)

new battery in hand, andrew and I set out to change it ourselves. him, I had faith in. me, not so much. i'm rather car-ignorant. luckily for us, though, two neighbors jumped in and helped us (well, him) out. sporting worn-out denim and cans of beer (at 10 AM-they are champions!), they helped the mister bring my Tommy back to life.

it's times like these i'm grateful I didn't dive into total hermit mode and move to a house in the middle of nowhere. thank you, neighbors-turned-friends. and though I don't usually accept excessive outdoor Halloween decorations, yours are marvelous. Jack Skellington never looked so welcoming.