This morning. Michael stopped by the Ford dealership in town to ask them straight-up when the Fiesta would be ready. The finally gave us a definite answer: July.

July. Fucking hell.

I’m angry at a lot of things right now. I’m angry with Ford for stringing us a long for two months, telling us the car would hit the lots first in April and then in September, and now July. I’m angry that I’ve been without a car for three months, cooped up at home and relying on my poor friends to drive my ass around. I’m angry at the irony of having a car currently sitting in our driveway that doesn’t run and even if it did I couldn’t drive it.

But most of all, I’m angry at the fucking cocksucker who T-boned Michael. Had he not been on his fucking cellphone I would have my little car right now and wouldn’t need to write angry posts like this.

I know it’s fruitless to be angry. I know it’s also stupid to be angry since there are worse things in the world than to be without a car. Right now, I’m essentially whining because I can’t get the car I want for another four months. Get out your tiny violin and play it for me.

So, time to move on.

Should I wait for the Fiesta? Should I go ahead and buy the far inferior Focus? Should I buy a douchey sports car?

Who the fuck knows.