Don't Ask

A few nights ago, I woke up in the middle of the night frantic with worry, fretting myself into a frenzy because I had somehow gotten the idea that I'd mistakenly added transmission fluid to my car’s coolant reservoir.

Don't ask. Even I don't know.

How do these things get into my head?  Especially while I'm sleeping? 

The backstory is that when I went to Missouri last August for my nephew's wedding, I noticed my car was running a little hot.  It wasn't in the danger zone, but was a little hotter than normal.  I pulled in to the welcome center just over the Missouri border and let it cool off a bit, then went on my merry way.  It did fine the rest of the way there and back, so I think it was from all the going up and down and braking and speeding up through the hills of Arkansas -- not to mention the triple digit heat.  

After I got back home, I checked my coolant reservoir, and it was a bit low so the next time I was in town, I bought some antifreeze and topped it up. That was in late August or early September.  Six months (ish) ago.  Why I suddenly started worrying about it Monday night is quite beyond me.  

Eventually, I fell back asleep, but when I woke up to get ready for work Tuesday morning, that worry was still with me.  I don't know why.  I tried to reassure myself that I would never do anything so foolish, and if I had, surely by now it would have caused problems with my engine.  It is now Wednesday night, and I still can't shake the idea that I've put transmission fluid into my antifreeze reservoir. 

This is what it's like to live inside my head. 

OK, moving right along.  I was going to tell you something yesterday, but when the news of Toby Keith's death broke, pretty much my whole blog post went out the window.  I'm still bummed about that, by the way.  I actually had a Toby Keith playlist on YouTube.  He's the only non-Christian, non sea chanty singer that I did that for. Anyway...

Yesterday, one of the brazers had brought something to give to another coworker, and she had it in a bag.  She told me that as she walked past Greedy Bess's table, Greedy Bess nearly broke her neck trying to see what Brazer had in her hand.  Even after she walked over to her stand and set the item down on her table, Greedy Bess turned around, STOOD UP, and was craning her neck to try to see what that thing was.  (I don't know, by the way.  Brazer didn't tell me and it's none of my business anyway.)

Brazer and I have been talking lately about her wanting to learn to knit and crochet.  She was going to buy one of those learn-to-knit kits, but today I told her that I would look and see if I still had the book I'd learned from some 25 years ago.  

When I got home, I dug through my cabinet and found the book.  I got an old pair of Boye needles and a skein of yarn, then put it all into a project bag from FFITS.  

I'm going to take it to her tomorrow.  Is it wrong to hope Greedy Bess gets nosy so I can tell her off? 

Speaking of knitting, Walmart finally got some of that sparkly pink yarn in again, so I can work on my sister-in-law's gift.  Now, I just need to find some patterns. 

And finally, the song that started it all: