Escapism. Today, thinking of Doyce and his dickweed po’lice officer, I renewed the tags on the car.

I had to go back in to work for a meeting today at two; I decided to leave early just to finish up a few things before I had to go. Put the tags on the car. Stopped to fill up with gas.

Failed to re-start the car.

Asked both the managers in the station if they’d help me jump it–I have cables–and they refused. “I have a new car,” they both said. Well, so much for my business. Bye, Breakplace.

I waited until I calmed down and received help jumping the car. Two blocks from work–no power. I coasted to a stop and walked to work, called Lee, went to the meeting, and caught a ride home.

Ah, escapism.

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