Driving home from work yesterday, spring was there. No longer taunting like a teenager playing hard-to-get, this time she was there, right on the other side of my car window. So I did what any other red-blooded Midwesterner would do: I rolled my window down a wee bit. And when I needed a little less springtime air, I hit the button to roll the window back up.
ZhhhhhggggNO. Seriously, that's the sound it made as it took the window all ... the ... way ... down. So I called my dad and left a message. Really, what could he do from 40 miles away? Honestly, it was a little bit funny, right? And the humor wasn't lost on me. Neither, however, was the rain in the forecast. Needed a solution.
Call Cute Brian.
Riding in on the white horse is not his style. However, reassuring me that, one way or another, getting the window covered was in the cards, most definitely. So he came over, looking devastatingly handsome in the summer haircut and crisply pressed work duds. Seriously, he's not known as Cute Brian because he's ugly. Anyway, we run to the hardware store for duct tape and plastic, and we're gonna patch that puppy up. But instead, Maggie has a stroke of genius: needle-nose pliers. I wedge them down into the doorframe, and pull up the offending glass.
Hot damn, the girl does something right!
A little duct tape later, it's (almost) as good as new. It looks a little odd, held in place as it is by copious amounts of duct tape. It doesn't roll down, so drive-through windows and/or drive-up ATMs are a thing of the past. But there's enough going on in my life right now that a little thing like a malfunctioning car window isn't even on my radar.
Some day, I'll get it fixed. Or at least find out how much I'm gonna need to save before I can afford to get it fixed. But for the time being, I'm tooling around town in a very loud, very fabulous 1998 Jeep Cherokee.
Ghetto fabulous, John calls it. No, it's Maggie Fabulous. It's what you do when life hands you limes: you make margaritas.