Yesterday was just basically a really really bad day. It started off ok. I rested for the morning, reading a little and dozing a little, until I got up to go to see my counsellor for an appointment at 2pm. My appointment with him went pretty well .. it's what happened right afterwards that was problematic .. in fact, I wish he'd been there!
When I got back from G's at the weekend there was a card on my doormat from the postman stating that I had a parcel at the depot to collect. So, I decided to park in one of the roads near the post office and go get it. Except, when I parked, I hit the kerb, and my tyre went straight down. I think it burst actually. I stood by the kerb and stared at it for a few moments, then figured that it wasn't exactly going to go anywhere, so I decided to go and have my prescription filled and pick up the parcel before I did anything. I texted G, Ian and Brian asking what I should do.
For some reason Ian's odd answer was that I should buy a cheaper car. This I didn't understand. Brian was otherwise engaged with various daughters, but he at least managed to commandeer the Tesco delivery man and rescue my shopping for me. And G, whilst at work, said he'd come and help me, but because he is so far away I told him not to. I don't want him to have to make up several hours at work later in the week after all.
I do have AA membership, but I was told that they won't come out just to help you with a puncture. Plus it would presumably take them a while to get to me; I was expecting the Tesco delivery and worried about getting home in time for it. Plus I was just around the corner from ATS, where I knew a very nice guy worked. So I decided to go to ATS and see if someone could help me change the tyre. Unfortunately the nice guy wasn't there.
I was walking with my stick. I was exhausted from having gone to the chemist and post office, and then walking through to ATS. I was shaking really badly, and knew that if I didn't eat anything I'd probably pass out or collapse or something. The guy said he'd be able to help in ten to fifteen minutes, so I forced myself to go over to Morrisons and buy a Snickers. It didn't help much.
One of the mechanics went to my car with me. He fiddled around for a bit and then said that he couldn't get the spare tyre out. So I drove my car, on the burst tyre, back round to ATS. He still couldn't get the tyre out. He said that the bolt holding it in had seized up or something like that. He said that my only option therefore was to purchase a new tyre. I looked at him and said 'do I have any choice?'. I was told not. So I told him he'd better take the payment before fitting it, since I really wasn't sure I had enough money in my account. He took the payment, fitted the tyre, and sent me on my way. I actually felt so giddy and sick after this that I should probably not have driven home. I drove carefully.
When I spoke to G he was disgusted at the price I'd paid for a tyre. £108. You see, I do not know anything about cars. The workers at ATS knew this full well, since the very first thing I had said to them was 'I've got a puncture and don't have a clue how to change it!'. So, I had no idea whether £108 was an average price for a tyre or not. All I knew was that they had told me I had no choice.
So, G phoned ATS a little later, asking them for a quote on a tyre of the same kind that I had had, and was not surprised when he was told that he could have one for £60. He then asked them why they had sold his girlfriend a tyre for £108, and told them he was going to complain to head office. I've written a letter to go alongside his.
I'm not quite sure how he feels about it, but I feel embarrassed. I feel really really stupid. I feel stupid for getting a puncture in the first place. I wish I could park properly. I also feel stupid for having been conned. And I feel disappointed that someone I asked for help took advantage when they could see how ill I felt, and I had specifically told them how bad it would leave me financially.
I was very teary eyed last night. Exhausted, but in such a way that I couldn't actually rest. So I settled down to working on my family tree a bit. And surprisingly woke up this morning feeling quite positive, having shaken yesterday completely off during the night.
The sun was shining. I don't know why, I just seem to always feel better when the sun shines. So I decided to have a bath. And while the bath ran I tidied up my eyebrows and bleached my moustache. I can't afford to have Marie sort them out for me now, so figured I should do it myself. I don't look too bad.
Having completed my bathing process I took a phone call from our estate agent. He was asking me whether we would consider £92,000 on the house. The answer was that I knew Ian would not consider it, but he could speak to him if he wished. It seems that the man who came to view the house last week, telling me that he was looking at it for his father, was actually a builder looking at it on behalf of the previous viewers we'd had. I am quite offended at the clandestine approach. But to cut a long story short, we got the offer for £95,000 from them eventually, so have accepted.
Soooo, now it gets real. It should take about eight weeks for the sale to be finalised. That's eight weeks to pack my house, and work out what we're going to do with everything in it. I think I'm going to G's, but I'm still not entirely clear on it. I'm still in shock a bit. Not really taking it in. The enormity of everything is overwhelming me. It's the end of one life, and the start of another one. I am scared of both.
But hey .. the sun is shining, and the house has sold!
