I just have to admit it ... I impress the hell out of myself sometimes.
My dear, sweet 10-year-old {Claire the Cavalier} is getting on in age. I'm not sure what 10 human years might equate to in automobile years, but it's probably quite a few. As she is aging, she's beginning to have a few minor health problems. A little putter here, a little stutter there, and hot flashes when her a/c runs out of refrigerant. She's overall in very excellent condition for a car that's been on the road since June 2000. She's had a few hormone replacement therapy sessions in the past {administering refrigerant}, but I've never had to do it myself. She's been needing a little TLC lately and I've been putting it off as long as possible. But as I'm heading to Columbus for a short trip on Thursday, and the temperatures have hit inferno-like levels these past few days, I just couldn't let it go on any longer. So I made a quick stop at CarQuest today to pick up some refrigerant and headed to a local garage so that they could put it in my car for me. Psssshhttt ... Local garages do not administer pressurized refrigerant to personal vehicles. WTH? They leave such tasks to innocent citizens who can pump their own gas and can merely check their oil levels? But, being the independent woman that I am, I did not let the daunting task intimidate me. I picked up the hose that I needed from Wal*Mart, marched myself outside this evening, and got to it. I read the instructions several times with sweat running down my face and my hands trembling like crazy. I put on my trusty dusty gardening gloves {that had yet to be used}. I said a prayer and went to work.
I am so flipping proud of myself! I've watched my Dad do this a number of times, but have never had the occasion to do it myself. But this evening I flexed my feminine know-how muscles and took care of it all by my little ol' self. Damsel in distress ... I think not!
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