Whines tells me I don't actually want a pet hyena. But he's wrong. I shouldn't have a pet hyena, but no-one can stop me from wanting.
So, Butterfly's car died two days ago. I was trying to get it to start--it has a lot of trouble starting, particularly on cold days, and particularly if it's been a long time since it's been started. I tried to start it until the battery fluttered and the lights went dim and it was losing the power to turn the engine at all.
I made various gloomy predictions after that. Then, the next day, she turns the key once and it merrily tootles around the block.
Grumble. I'm not petty, not really, I'd rather there was a functional car, but I do like it very much when things progress in a manner that I can understand, in a way that Occam's Razor doesn't come up with the answer that the car actually does hate me.
Nobody knew the car had a car alarm until I started driving it, and it started going off when I tried to get in.