Tuesday, March 31, 2009

The Break-Up

Dear Yetta the Jetta,

You were my first love (that I ever purchased with my own money), and we have some fantastic memories. But I think we both know what is coming. Do you remember when we began? The sky was clear and the cool winter was coming to an end that last day of my 20th year; March 5th, 2001. I can even remember where we were; Redmond, Washington, and what you were wearing; a sleek, freshly buffed silver coat that really showed off your curves. You were my dream whip.

We have been through a lot over the past 4 years. Do you remember when I turned 21 the day after we met and I let Steph drive you around downtown Seattle? I'm sorry about that. I only let it happen one other time, and we both know that I was really sick. But there is no excuse. I was really pretty good at not letting others take you by the wheel. No one could shift you like I could.

The road trips were always your favorite. Seattle to Salt Lake to Rexburg to Redding to Reno; it never mattered where we were going as long as you were on the open road and given the opportunity to exceed 35mpg, you were happy. Even that time that we were coming home from a couple months away in Salt Lake and you dislocated your passenger window. It cost me a pretty penny and took a professional to put it back in place. But I think you were just being stubborn and wanted to feel the fresh air blow through your slick leather seats during the ride. All along I thought that was what your moon roof was for.

I still feel guilty for that Thanksgiving Day that I had to go to work in Seattle. I think you know which one I am talking about, in 2006. Up until last week I was still finding glass shards from your drivers side window that stupid crook shamelessly shattered. And I was reminded constantly how he violently tore your stereo out and tossed it across the pavement when he was caught. It was like he tore your heart out. I reinstalled it as soon as I could, but it never was the same; always skipping beats and scratching cd's. I have thought about apologizing for all the times I hit your dash, but I did it for you. I never wanted to hurt you, just get your stereo back on beat when it skipped cd's for no reason.

You are a tough little cookie! You were roughed up a few times by other cars who thought that they were stronger, but you always made it away without even a scratch. And I know that you know that none of those incidents were my fault. I cared too much to ever put you in danger. In fact, whenever another car tried to pick a fight with you, I was scared to drive for weeks.

There were definitely more good times then bad. I think we both fell in love with Garrin and his VW at the same time. They sure are cute, aren't they?

All this said, we both know where our relationship stands. Over the past 6 months you have been blowing me off and have been way too high maintenance. I no longer can afford to buy you new accessories or to send you away to the mechanic for a week. It's time to break-up. Garrin has found someone new for me. He/she doesn't have a name yet, but suffice it to refer to it as a brand new Honda CR-V.

You can't give me all that it can. You can't drive in the snow, or play my iPod. I broke 700 miles in it the other day, you were beyond 122,000. My new friend has that distinct new car smell and is a pristine white. I must admit that I will miss your unique scent of crayon, but I think it's worth it.

Thank you for all the good times, the lessons and the miles. You will be missed.

Warmest regards,
Melissa Margot Tuttle
Your former owner

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Week 11 of 2009

I wrote the follow email to my office today. It's a true story.

It's not going so hot, similar to the 10 weeks prior. I am not going to be able to make it in today; I guess the $500 I spent fixing my car last month and the $1000 two months before that just isn't enough to keep it running safely. Last night on my way home from a much too late meeting in Kirkland a VERY large truck decided to drive mostly in my lane, as opposed to the lane next to me which he was also driving in. Because of my desire to stay alive, I had to swerve and slammed on my brakes (naturally, with my semi-road rage i simultaneously laid on the horn), causing my sweet little manual car to stall half way off the road, about 1 mile from my house, in the middle of a 1 mile long 500 ft elevation hill. When I restarted my car, after subduing outrage that gets you nowhere when alone in a car, my check engine light flashed repeatedly; notifying me that my car is not safe to drive and is about to explode.

It was awesome (I hope you sense my sarcasm).

I proceeded home, topping out around 10 mph with my car jerking all over the place. I think it didn't want to drive anymore and was trying to pull itself over. When I got home, Garrin said that slamming on your brakes can sometimes shake something loose. Sounds safe right? He told me to try it again in the morning.

This morning after sleeping a mere 5 hours, I quickly got ready for the day and made my way down to scrape the opaque layer off of my cool 18 degree car. Making my way out of my development, the check engine light started flashing at me again like a liquored up coed on Fat Tuesday. As I continued at a speedily coast around 5 mph, my car began jerking again. I called Garrin and he suggested that I turn back around before something worse happens.

Which brings me to now; sitting on the floor in my bedroom, writing you this email to let you know that I am trapped in my 650sq ft apartment again. Just like I was in December. I have enough little projects to work on from home today, if that is ok. I may be emailing some of you to forward me documents that I know are on the Pool or in recent emails.

Feel free to call me if you need anything, I will be sitting at home, alone, reading and following up on emails.

Drive safely out there, watch out for large trucks.



Wednesday, January 28, 2009

I'm Only Sleeping

I have a bit of a confession. If possible, I would lay in bed 10-18 hours a day with the lights out and buried under layers of handmade afghans and flannel sheets; I love to sleep. On days that Garrin works, around 4:30-5 am I do everything in my power to stay asleep when he ruffles the blankets and unknowingly shakes me awake 5-15 hours earlier than I would like. Even more, when attempts are made to restore me to my cozy state of slumber, as thoughtful as his are, it's just not the same. Something that all closet over-sleeper's know is that disrupted sleep, regardless of how much time you are able to squeeze out of your bed, is never the same as a choosing to wake up hours after the sun has fully emerged over the horizon.

With that said, I don't even know that I could rightfully call myself an over-sleeper. I really only need 5-6 hours in my happy dream-land of sloom, that some call a bed, to function properly; but in all reality, I would lay in bed for days on end casually flirting with both sinking deeper into my bed and productively utilizing my day. Because the obligations of life call louder than Qwest Field during playoffs, I am unnaturally forced to the latter.

If nothing got in my way, I would choose peacefully laying in bed all day over most anything; eating, social interaction, watching Friends... Well, that last one might actually take a very close second.