We made it safe and sound, albeit shaken and terrified. My father, bless him, has been working on fixing the acclaim all day. He thinks he's got it figured. We poured "sea foam" into the gas tank collectively, but I'm really quite lost when he explains all of the helpful things he's done for my poor automobile. He's tried to tell me not to freak out about it, but I still feel complete and utter terror whenever the car malfunctions slightly. Why? Well, in the words of Mitch Hedburg:
"I don't understand cars, man. If the car breaks down, and the gas tank does not say "e," I'm fucked. Otherwise if the gas tank says "e" I get all cocky. I'm like, 'I got this one! Let me break out the toolbox, a.k.a wallet.' I would be a shitty automechanic. Someone would bring their car to me and say, 'my car won't start.' Well maybe there's a killer after you!"
Yeah. Somethin' like that. Eek.
In other news, the weather is lovely. The grass is only slightly more green on this side of the state line, and we're about to take the dogs for a walk. It should be lovely.
My Grandpa went back into the hospital yesterday, and they won't be joining us for Easter. I'm pretty bummed out, 'cause I was looking forward to seeing him. I have such a "what if this is my last chance?" complex. He got two more stints put in, and I'm pretty sure he has stints on every single artery around his heart now. He's going back home today, though. They expect him to do well, and I guess it makes sense to stint everything in one go instead of surgery, then healing, then surgery again. Who knows?