(original lj post 02/06/2013)
A couple of days ago, when I was running my landlord around, doctor, Home Depot, lunch, etc, something weird happened in my car. I spent the last two days figuring out what the problem is, even going so far as to call the guy who replace my oil pan (and kept my car for an entire frakking year!) and ask him, since he's a Volvo lover.
Bought a light tester today, couldn't figure out from the directions how to use the stupid thing, and ended up pulling each individual fuse out of two different places in my car (inside and under the hood) to find the blown one/s. None. And now my hands hurt. So, it's a relay. I also took each one of them apart and checked, but could not tell if any of them were blown - have no frame of reference. Auto Zone guys were completely clueless. O'Reilly's guy at least knew exactly what I was talking about when I told him what I needed, but told me it was a dealer part, $40 each, nonreturnable, and O'R have no way of testing those, so I can't figure out which one it is. Maybe Volvo does. I really don't want to go to the dealership.
While I was there, another O'R guy came in and after I described everything, including the blooming chime that never shuts up, he said, "Sounds like your alternator." It does not sound like my alternator, but I just looked at him. Apparently I used my 'mom' look or something, because he said I looked confused. "Well, your alternator is basically a small electrical generator." Really? I had no idea. I've never worked on a car before in my life, or rebuilt a carb, or helped pull an engine, or worked at a parts house or a dealership. I didn't say any of that, though the frustrated bitch in me surely wanted to. Actually, the frustrated bitch in me wanted to smack the crap out of him, but that's neither here nor there.
I've never owned a Volvo before, and I have to say that it's been a big, fat pain in my ass. Parts are impossible and expensive, and finding someone to work on them that doesn't work at a dealership is extremely difficult. I'll go back to American from now on. At least I know how to find the parts and how to fix them. Mostly.
Got back, and the guy (I call him Scrawny Hernia Guy) who was supposed to do the painting on the side of the house did a crap job, much like the crap job he did in my landlord's closet (none of the shelves are level, and seriously? Landlord's blind, but you aren't. Frakker.). He wanted to get paid anyway, and his reasoning was he was paid to paint on the second story (uh, only one story on this house) and that's what he did. If we wanted it done right, as in old paint scraped completely off before the new paint goes on, he'd have to come back next week, and we'd have to pay him the same amount as today, again. Uh-huh. Maybe that works for other people, and maybe that worked for landlord before he had me, but I'm a perfectionist, and I don't pay people to do crap jobs and to come back to do the job right the second time instead of the first. I'll get up on that stupid ladder and paint that one little piece myself before I'll pay you another flipping dime. Idiot.
On the other hand, nine days until Die Hard, and only three until Saturday, plus, my fingers have been typing a lot of stories lately, and none of that sucks, so... :D
Maybe I'll take some benadryl and go to bed early tonight. Wake up on the right side of the chair tomorrow. lol
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