So I had a job interview today for a job across town. It went very well, I thought. On the way back, the car started smoking. I must admit, it was kind of weird seeing it with a Marlboro sticking out the grill, but the way I see it, Wilbur (the car) is twenty years old, and emphysema is not too big of a worry at this point.
In reality, he was smoking. REALLY smoking. I probably looked like the Return of Christ as I pulled into the apartment complex in a Great Cloud of Smoke. Wilbur is now broken, and we can't afford to fix him. So yeah. We have no car now. And I MUST find a job within walking distance. Oh my dear Lord.
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