Cars. You can’t live with them and you can’t live with them. The above is an invoice from the latest yearly car inspection. As some of you may remember, Bossy and her husband have a His and Hers situation. This receipt belongs to His.
His is the older, black Honda CRV. It was driving perfectly fine but Christ on the cross, it turns out the car needed front brake pads and rotors — and also new tires, but Bossy’s husband will purchase them elsewhere.
Lucky thing Bossy and her husband are kind of in love with their mechanic and trust him implicitly, or else Bossy would be even more devastated by the bill, which came to $465.09
Readers reader? Bossy isn’t afraid to tell you: she’s disappointed by this bill, but she’s mostly disappointed in herself. Bossy thought by this point in her Poverty Party she would have made more sacrifices to get out of debt — and one of the sacrifices Bossy has contemplated is going down to only one car.
But every time Bossy and her husband talk about it, they can never reach an agreement about the logic of the decision, or which one of the fleet should be the one to go. Both of Bossy’s Hondas were bought used for a fair price, and both cars are a known quantity, and it seems scary to sell off a good car, only to maybe need a car again in the very near future and be back in the game of looking for something used, cheap, big enough for Bossy’s paint ladders, and reliable.
Unfortunately Bossy’s husband needs a car, every day, to deliver him to something just shy of hell and back for work. So realistically, becoming a one-car family means Bossy wouldn’t be able to leave her little town at all during the week, give or take a few hundred train rides into the city for free concerts.
The thought of being without a motorized escape panics Bossy a little. Sometimes a lot. But the question remains: is Bossy’s hovering debt a more emphatic panic? And finally: is Bossy running out of gas, heh, halfway through her year-long Poverty Party?
Bossy’s council? What say you?