Sand and stress

My grandiose plans to study hard over the weekend have evaporated like cool spring water in the Mojave desert. The result of not studying has been that I'm even further behind than I was and am now confronted with mounting stress, piled like numerous grains of sand in so many dunes of the aforementioned desert -- all of which brings me to my car.

Not being very mechanically inclined, I'll employ a metaphor that compares my car to an elderly person to describe the problem. Essentially, my car fractured a hip. While still able to move about, the car needs to see a professional, either today or tomorrow. I've been reluctantly forced to realize the car's eventual mortality. Although I can use the local bus system in emergencies, car trouble will severely restrict my mobility. Whether or not this episode is the beginning of the end remains to be seen; but once again, you'll note, the theme here is stress.

I figure I should take a lesson from Ned. Ned is the name that I've given to the nutria I mentioned a few entries back. Apparently, the acorn tree in front of my mailbox is his favorite dining establishment/night club. When I collect my mail at 11:00 p.m. or later, he seems to always be calm and unperturbed, even as I'm trying to dance away from him, lest he prove me wrong. Still his serenity, transcendental in a mystical way, gives me hope that I, too, will somehow find a way through this improbable work-mountain