(no subject)
Jul. 16th, 2012 11:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lolabobsI had a flat tyre today - sitting at work, waiting for my late night reporters and anticipating my escape for the day. (First day back at work, every bit as bad as I expected, with the added joy of realising that I have a mahoosive report due in Wed, that I haven't even started yet. I will be working late tomorrow)
Anyway there I sat, wondering what work I could get done in the next 40 minutes - when a colleague popped up to break the news that my tyre was completely flat. Grand.
Thankfully, I remembered that I have *free* recovery as part of my bank account (hence the dubiousness of the word 'free', I pay a fee every month) and joy of joys flat tyres were covered - so I waited an hour or so for the chap to turn up and change my tyre for me. I now have a little bright orange thing on it and I have to try and get the punctured wheel repaired tomorrow. (the repair bit is fine, I have a guarantee on the tyres I bought and they should do it free of charge, I'm not so sure about whether they'll swap the tyres over again for me though. And while *in theory* I know how to change a tyre, I'm not sure how much I'd trust a wheel I fixed on!
Ah well, we'll see!
And it's ridiculous, but I feel... to say 'I dealt with it myself' is ridiculous when you realise that all I did was make a phonecall, but I'm a Daddy's girl through and through and what I would have done is call my Daddy and he'd have come and we'd have changed the tyre together and we'd have gotten wet and we'd have made a mess and niggled each other about how tight to screw things on and struggled with bolts and . So. part of me wants to feel proud that I coped with this ridiculously easy issue on my own, that I didn't panic or get upset and that I knew what to do and managed it.
The rest of me is so sad that I had to.
Anyway there I sat, wondering what work I could get done in the next 40 minutes - when a colleague popped up to break the news that my tyre was completely flat. Grand.
Thankfully, I remembered that I have *free* recovery as part of my bank account (hence the dubiousness of the word 'free', I pay a fee every month) and joy of joys flat tyres were covered - so I waited an hour or so for the chap to turn up and change my tyre for me. I now have a little bright orange thing on it and I have to try and get the punctured wheel repaired tomorrow. (the repair bit is fine, I have a guarantee on the tyres I bought and they should do it free of charge, I'm not so sure about whether they'll swap the tyres over again for me though. And while *in theory* I know how to change a tyre, I'm not sure how much I'd trust a wheel I fixed on!
Ah well, we'll see!
And it's ridiculous, but I feel... to say 'I dealt with it myself' is ridiculous when you realise that all I did was make a phonecall, but I'm a Daddy's girl through and through and what I would have done is call my Daddy and he'd have come and we'd have changed the tyre together and we'd have gotten wet and we'd have made a mess and niggled each other about how tight to screw things on and struggled with bolts and . So. part of me wants to feel proud that I coped with this ridiculously easy issue on my own, that I didn't panic or get upset and that I knew what to do and managed it.
The rest of me is so sad that I had to.
