My car failed its MOT the other day; nothing serious, no big surprise: the driver’s side mirror is broken. (Mine and another car were waiting at traffic lights. They were on red and it was a two-lane road but a third car drove between us, smashing my mirror and careering on up the road.)
The garage didn’t have a replacement mirror so I’ve taken my car home and they were supposed to be ringing round to get me one.
I just phoned to see what was happening:
GARAGE: Ah, yes, he’s just fitting it now.
ME: Unlikely. The car’s here.
GARAGE: Oh.
William
Thanks, William ~blows kisses~ I needed that. How’s yer cold?
I’m just sniffly; I over-worry about these things because I fear giving them to Angela.
But I have an exciting garage update! As well as the mirror, I need a new windscreen. It’s taken days, for some reason, but just now a van and a man drove up.
ME: Would it help if I pulled the car out a bit?
HIM: Not much. I’m not doing it.
ME: I need a little more information.
HIM: It’s too windy. I could’ve called but instead I thought I’d drive round all day and tell people personally.
ME: It makes a difference, thank you.
William
My husband read this and was reminded of a notable occasion when he tried to order a replacement vegetable container for our refrigerator.
The person on the other end of the phone was asking a long uninterrupted series of inane questions. Me, being me, finally yelled “Oh for ****’s sake! Do you need me to come through the phone and SLAP you?”