Money

Sometimes, I really hate money. Like this weekend. My tire pressure light came on and I knew that I was due for some new tires. But I just wanted to buy the front tires. I think the alignment got off when someone hit a curb... it wasn't me... So there were bad wear patterns where there wasn't really any tread left. Darn those wear patterns. So I took Beyonce (that's the name of my car. She's a little spitfire. And when she's really sassy, she goes by Sasha Fierce) to Big O. I mean, I trust those guys. Well, I told them I only wanted to get two new tires for her front. Well, the guy went out and quickly came back in and told me there was a screw in her back passenger tire. I guess that could explain the tire pressure light. Duh. So, I shouted "Fine! I'll get three new tires!!" Those babies are expensive. Bah. So I left and hoofed it home. Then I got a phone call and they told me that the other back tire was really worn too and they strongly advised me to buy another $80 tire. "Fine!!" I shouted again. A million dollars, four tires, and an alignment later, Beyonce is back in business.
I did all this before I remembered my dentist appointment this morning. I don't have dental insurance anymore, hence my not going to the dentist for the last two years... But I decided that my teeth are worth it. So I went and got a cleaning and an exam. I was afraid my dentist was going to start making cash register noises the second I openned my mouth. But he didn't. He actually said everything was looking really good. So only a half a million dollars and only relatively small cha-ching sound effects, I have cavity free and gleaming ivories. I wonder if I could sell my teeth to poachers for some cash.