So yesterday I had a lovely morning getting my children ready to go to my mom's so I could head down to Toronto for Sammi's bridal shower at Wendy's place. After a lovely drive down where I didn't even get lost and I only got honked at once, I got there. I had some lovely food and a lovely time with the girls while we had conversations about boys and toys and all manner of things. A lovely time, and I'm very glad I went, it was quite fun.
So I had a lovely drive home, only taking a half hour to get from the Danforth area, across the Don Valley Parkway to the 401, and then to the 400. I got to my sisters to pick the girls up and discovered she was having a lovely dinner party type thing with friends and lots of food (hot dogs and crabs legs!), so I had a lovely time socializing while my children played out side with the other children were there.
I drag myself away, get the girls all packed up to go home for the rest of what has been an absolutely lovely day, and My FUCKING CAR IS DEAD.
Frank, my bro-in-law type guy, and his friend check the car out. Shawn (Franks friend), his ever so cute 3-year-old son comes in and informs me again that 'you car is dead. Uncle fwank twied it and it's dead. It not workin.' My worst fears confirmed by a preschooler. It was upsetting and cute at the same time.
My mechanic just called. The starter, as was suspected. 350 bucks with parts labour and taxes. should be ready in about an hour and a half. Gignac's auto service kicks ass for being quick.