I haven’t seen my apartment much lately. I am told it misses me.
Yesterday morning I went to the dealership to fix the flat tire. I brought it in, told them the problem, and went up to the waiting room. As it turned out, they couldn’t fix the flat one — they needed to put an entirely new tire on. They said it would run me about $100. That’s not too bad at all, I thought.
A while later, they called me back down because the car was ready. I went to pay, and my bill was $11.73. So I said something to the cashier about that, noticing I wasn’t billed for the tire. I guess maybe I should have kept my mouth shut.