The return of Tool-Girl

I was a little distressed this weekend to notice a new tendency of the hood of my car to come loose as I drive down the road. I didn't have the time to fuss with it properly until yesterday evening. With my trusty WD-40, a piece of rope, and strong piano fingers, I fixed it! There's a marvelous glow of accomplishment that comes with doing a job yourself -- especially if the result is more effective than simply tying the thing shut.

By the way, a note for all you would-be studs out there, 'cause I know you read my blog (note sarcasm, please...) -- The thing a sweaty, oil-begrimed girl wants to hear as she mucks around under the hood of her car is not "Hey, baby, what's your name?" Not even if you repeat it several times. While it may be somewhat flattering to discover you think there's something appealling buried between the humidity-induced curls, oil-blackened fingers, and paint-covered cut-offs, this is not the time. Trust me, she simply isn't in the mood.