The car had to have an interim service (ie oil and oil filter change) and MOT, and I had to find a garage near the new place where we live. A normal person would have asked around for recommendations first; I left it to the last minute and had to just grab one at random who could squeeze me in. Luckily they could squish it in between 2 of the 3 school runs.
Well, surprise surprise, a bulb had gone (oh right, it must have blown overnight because I checked them all round!) and some minor work “had” to be done. So another £30 odd plus VAT on to the bill. And the dashboard is still squawking “Service oil!” Have I been diddled, I wonder…? I’m so bloody tired that I’m not sure it’s worth the effort to go complain. I hate taking the car to the garage. The only decent mechanic I’ve used – ever - is a total gem and is yet another reason to miss where we used to live.
On the bright side, having to hang around a new town for 2 hours completely childless gave me a change to explore the library and nurse a coffee and newspaper in the local cafe. Luxury? Well, you’d think so! Instead of feeling languorous and spoiled, I just fretted over how much my pea-sized brain had shrunken that I couldn’t concentrate on reading even the ultra-condensed mini-news of ‘i’.
This evening, poor Maxi Minx has a sore tummy so has barely eaten. This is very unlike her. I suspect we’re in for a long night with that one… At first I thought she just wanted to escape the banshee wails of her sisters and preferred to skip dinner to have a lovely hour to herself, tucked up in bed, with one of her favourite novels. God, I know I would! But she’s looking very pale too, poor thing.
She lost another tooth this morning over breakfast (7th one: her top right outer incisor), so The Boss is currently and furtively shining up a £1 coin with brasso for The Tooth Fairy that I’d tucked away when I’d noticed how many wobbly teeth she has. And Midi’s teeth are loosening too… thankfully they’re not all coming out at once! What with the car, monumental vet bills, OMG-sized council tax at the new house and having to fill the oil tank, this month is already heart-attack-levels of expensive. I started looking out for Christmas casual work for me to ease the blow, but found it hard to navigate between the mountains of jobs that you can fit around 2 schools and 3 kids. Even the Royal Mail will only accept Christmas temps who can work full-time. I was naively hoping for something that I could do part-time at unsociable hours. Better get knitting and selling, then, eh?
I hope all 3 little raging monsters go to sleep soon so we can swap Maxi’s tooth for the coin this side of midnight. Right now Midi is roaring in her bed and Mini is sprawled on top of her, under the covers. “We’re playing Mummies and Babies!” Midi cheerfully said in a break from shrieking, then chided her ‘baby’ for coming out of her tummy too soon. Both then screamed in unison at the top of their lungs before collapsing into sniggers. I have absolutely no idea what’s going on, and frankly am too afraid to ask. I’m just going to hide in my bedroom for a bit. You didn’t see me, right?