the Muffin has moved in

I am in a losing battle with the Cosmic Muffin who has set up camp in my life. Like unpacked the summer clothes and decorated.

Today, I spent 5 hours seeing 3 mechanics (and the DMV), spending $228 on a rear oxygen sensor in order to pass the mandatory smog test so I can get my car registered in California. Well, this project has been extended, since the check engine light is still on. The last mechanic told me to drive the car 100 miles to see if the check engine light clears itself. Unfortunately, I never drive anywhere except the grocery store. Also, if this oxygen sensor isn't the problem, then I get to drop even more money on a new catalytic converter, even though there is still honeycomb catalyst still there. But I got a free espresso truffle latte at Starbucks, and I got a few pages of Judith Butler read. I drove home feeling largely frustrated because I really got nothing accomplished today. And then my day got worse.

Drove up to the 4th floor of the parking garage where I always park, because no one else ever parks up there. Parked in my diva spot, got out of the car, keys in hand to unlock my bike. Which wasn't there. Every time I move my car, I ride my bike (it's on the opposite side of the complex). I take the bike on the elevator and lock it to itself up on the 4th floor, out of the way. I can put my groceries in my basket and ride home, instead of schlepping bags for the 10 minute walk. Now it's missing.

I called the police, afraid, but hoping the bike was just impounded. Instead, they send over an officer to take a report. The officer was really impressed, because I could give detailed information, including providing a receipt with serial number, printing a photo, and giving a narrow window of disappearing. Then he told me they probably wouldn't ever find the bike. ARGH!!!

As a consolation prize, I walked into IV to get a cheesesteak. And there is a matte periwinkle bike! With black basket and leather handles!! I call the police; the "owner" comes out, insisting it's his. There was drama. Squad car. Only to find out that there are 2 matte periwinkle bikes out there. Part of what was so appealing about this bike was how unique it looked. Now I feel like a prat for calling the cops, accusing this perfectly innocent exchange student. I offered to buy the guy a pizza or something, but he was really nice about it, and just wanted to get home.

This is the 3rd bike I've had stolen from me. My first bike was stolen in Williamsburg. Another bike was stolen off my front porch at Yellow House. The red bike I bought to replace the first one was hit by a car, which bent the front fork irreparably. And let's not forget the stolen car adventure.

It sucks because I loved that bike, and I don't like walking places, because it's inefficient. I liked walking in Chicago as leisure not transit, but that was back when my iPod still worked (The battery doesn't hold a charge). I don't have the $150 for a new iPod OR a new bike.

Just another charming event in a list of bad luck I've been having. Last month, I tried getting a new phone, but that turned into drama because it was a lemon. Friday, I got slapped with a parking ticket in L.A. because I punched in the wrong parking space number to the kiosk. Someone got free parking, and I got a $48 ticket.

And all my chocolate has fat bloom, which makes it crumbly and yucky. But I can't just curl up and hide, because I still have Judith Butler to read, presentations to assemble, grants and book reviews to write.