So I learned a fun lesson the other day. The key to my car (and so many these days) is one of those keyless entry numbers where, although there is indeed a key on it, most of it is buttons--arming/disarming, popping the trunk, etc. Well, did you know that you should not dunk your keys in your margarita and expect it to keep working?
D and I stopped off at Gloria's after work and for whatever reason, I decided to move my keys from one spot to another and well, I dropped them right in my drink along the way. And no, when this happened, I had only consumed one. It spent mere seconds in the sugary concoction, yet it would seem sugar, alcohol and electronics just do not mesh. It even spent the night opened up to dry out.
So now I have to lock my car the hard way (oh the humanity). I called VW to ask about replacing it. Wow. So it would be $65 to replace the part, not the end of the world, really. Aha, but then it's another $85-100 to reprogram it. Nice. I said thank you, I think I'll continue to just stick the key in the door to lock it.
So let's all remember: keys are not for margarita dunking.
Other than that, I've kept busy with a little reading. I read one of my dad's recommendations, The Likeness by Tana French. It has a borderline-ridiculous premise and yet it's really well written and pulls it off.
I didn't realize it was a follow-up to a previous detective novel, but it really doesn't matter in order to read this one.
And in an apparently drastic change, I'm now reading Daniel Pinchbeck's disturbingly interesting 2012: The Return of Quetzalcoatl (thanks for the article, dad!). Oh my. I'm not that far into it, and it's far more intriguing than I expected it. I was ready for it to be woo-woo crazy and unintentionally funny. But so far it's really descriptive of other cultures' takes on the passage of time (not really addressing the End of the World just yet), all heavily peppered (almost saturated, really) with Pinchbeck's psychedelic experimentations.
Honey, I want to go through a Bwiti tribe initiation and take iboga. Maybe next year. (Just kidding, mom.)
Either way, I really recommend both. The former for the gripping story, the latter for being...well, interesting just doesn't cut it, let's put it that way.