This story ended up being way longer and having way less of a point than I anticipated. Hey! Sort of like my paper will!

Ok, so the office chair that came with the house broke so that the thing where you lower yourself to the appropriate height was always at the lowest height.  So I couldn't sit at the desk ever (which I really only do when I need to feel like I'm doing Serious Work [like this paper, which is actually going to be fine because of its length and not despite it, which allows me to just sort of talk about the re-appropriation of power through the re-writing of history for some ten pages {or fifteen!  Seriously, look that up} without ever really making a point or coming to a conclusion]) and even Joel was uncomfortable with the chair that low.

And we looked on craigslist for chairs, but this is Victoria and so everyone's all, I bought this chair for $165 but I'm selling it for $130!  That's a savings of $35!!!  Which, people, used.  You have to at least half the price.

ANYhoodle, so we found this one chair for $35 and I'm apprehensive that it'll end up being something that an ordinary person would try and sell for, like, $5 just to get it off their hands.  I'll tell you right now that the chair is great and whatever, because that is totally not the point of the story.

The POINT is that something did not want us to get that chair.  Part of that something was me, because of this paper and my Bad Attitude towards leaving the house when I should be facebooking and pretending to do research.  But I enjoy adventuring, and sometimes leaving a thing alone makes you care less about the thing so that you can do a better job of the thing later. 

So we hop in the car to get the chair and the car starts making this awful chugging...something something flooded something?  Whatever, it wasn't safe to drive.  So we stop to get cash and then grab a few energy drinks to make change because the chair is $35 and not $40 and drive back to the house all Werp werp, what are we going to do now?

But Joel gives the car a few revvs just to see what's the what, and suddenly it runs fine.  You are such a KOOK, little white car.  So we head back out on the road except at the first stop the energy drinks fly off the back seat and hit my chair and roll under it.  So BECAUSE WE ARE DUMB we decide to put them in the glove box.  And as Joel is handing them to me to PUT in the glove box he's all, I just don't want them to smash into something and dent and for us to have energy drink squirting everywhere.

Ok right, except that I close the glove box with the drinks in it and one of them punctures and by this time we're driving again and I can't figure out which one is the one that punctured and purple energy is oozing everywhere and there's nowhere to pull over and seriously, WHICH ONE IS PUNCTURED and I have to roll down the window so that I can hold the drink outside the car because we still can't pull over yet and my arm smells like Trix.

And then, I guess that's sort of it.  I kind of wanted one more bad thing to happen to round out the story, but we got home alive and didn't bump into any cyclists.

Also, I've been eating this cereal that, in English, is called 'On Track' (which is sort of encouraging, I guess) but which, in French, is called 'Victoire!' (which is far more triumphant-sounding).  We English-o-phones need to up our enthusiasm.