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Making an appointment with the doctor sends me reeling into a spiral of anxiety and depression. So I made an appointment with the Saturn dealer instead. It’s the last time I’ll be covered under the Car Care warranty that I bought with the car five years ago next month, so I’m having them do the works.
I’m also having them make double sure my tires are okay. Tires aren’t covered under the warranty, but a few months ago when I was having problems with air pressure, the Boss told me to buy new tires if I felt I needed them. Now, suddenly, I’m getting that feeling. I’d like this car to last at least another year or two, before I buy the hybrid I lust after, but I can’t drive with any confidence on tires that I have doubts about.
I’ve added air to these tires (the left front specifically) twice in the last couple of months. It always looks low to me, although I can’t tell if it’s an optical illusion or if I’m parked in a depressed spot. Other people’s tires look rounder than mine, and I’m jealous. I don’t want to be stuck at home with tires that aren’t round enough to get me from here to there, not to mention back again.
Since I don’t have the same doubts about my body (it’s definitely round enough, for one thing), I’ll put off the doctor as long as I possibly can. I was going to do that anyway, of course. I always do. I don’t have any complaints, and every time I see the doctor he comes up with something I didn’t know was wrong.
I’m still not convinced that my blood pressure was ever high enough to warrant the medication he prescribed. It’s an extremely low dose anyway, so I doubt it does anything, and every time I check my own blood pressure it’s fine. I think it’s just another way for my HMO to get a co-payment out of me every three months. I’m not usually that cynical, but— Oh, wait. Yes I am, about things like this. | 
