We're alone again.

I love my truck. Really, I do. And as such, I try really, really, REALLY hard to not be a stereotypical dumb girl about it. About any aspect of it. If doing self-oil changes wasn't more expensive than taking it to Jiffy Lube (or even better, Joel), I would totally change my own oil.

So, I get really, really, REALLY frustrated when there's something about my truck that I don't understand. Enter: car insurance!

I have NO idea what coverage I need. I would assume a lot of it, because I hit things pretty often. But I don't know how much is too much, what my deductable should be, how much I should pay a month, what will actually be covered, on and on. I guess no one really knows, as insurance is really a sort of gamble regardless. But, really, have you ever tried talking to an actual agent? Getting actual advise? Dude might as well be giving me the run down in Arabic. And insurance websites only exist so they can collect all your information and then harass you into getting a policy, when all you want to do is get a quote.

FAIL. So, I had about the most frustrating afternoon of my life yesterday, trying to figure out all this stuff. Frustration tears are the absolute worst, when all you want to do is really cry, get good and cried out, but you can't even manage that. My dad tries really hard to be helpful, but I think he and my mom are both worried they're going to give me the wrong advise. And when I'm that upset I really DGAF, I just want SOME advise. PLEASE. Just someone tell me what to do.

So, I finally decided to get off the phone and the internet and talk to an agent face to freaking face. I'm going to meet with my dad's agent in Tucumcari over the 4th and hopefully clear my head about it all.

Look at how much I've blogged this week! Everyday! And blogs of what I would believe to be some sort of substance. I like it! I wish that someone would pay me to blog, so I could be like the almighty dooce. But maybe I'm not built to handle the criticism. I think that what I write here is so impersonable because I live in fear of flammers.


I'm not sure why, but Ryan Adams and Mandy Moore dating makes me almost as happy as a british hat.


Almost.