Well, our plan to meet-up with our friends in Vermont and then head to Boston for dinner and an over-night got royally fucked yesterday when my father's transmission shit the bed while he was delivering some of his rustic furniture. The plan was to simply go to where he was stranded and tow him myself (if it appeared safe to do so) or simply call a tow truck. But he had donated one of the pieces to an auction raising money for breast cancer (my mother had it twice) and it was the largest item donated, so I would have been a complete fucktard if I hadn't offered to take that piece off of his truck, put it in mine, and continue its course to the auction. So we did that, went back to his truck, and then towed that white trash pick-up 40 minutes back to his house. (I have to say, it amazes me that some cars can't hold the speed limit while going up hill, but that fucking Durango does so, easily, while towing a shitty old pick-up loaded with wooden furniture. I'm going to miss that V-8's roar when the oil runs out.)
By the time I arrived home, it was too late to meet up with our friends as planned, and we would have had to drive directly to Boston and hopefully find them there. I was tired, unshaved and had been grinding my teeth all morning, so we chose to stay home and go see
Quantum Solace. Good flick. We we're supposed to go to dinner first, but we found ourselves watching
Sophie Scholl on the Sundance Channel, so we only had time for burger death at Wendy's.
Other than that, the day was uneventful.