My New Car: I Want to Throw Up

Today I bought a new car. The Honda Insight. Spending money makes me want to throw up. It didn't help that I was trading in my dream car, my PT Cruiser. It had everything that I loved in a car, it sat a little higher than average, it had awesome storage, leather heated seats, flat fold down front seat, removable back seats, manual transmission. If I thought it would last forever, I would have kept it forever.

This car sits a little lower, no tinted windows, no heated seats, no fold down front seat, tiny 15 inch wheels, automatic transmission. Ugh, why get the thing? Well it does get 40 mpg (on a bad day). And I can control everything from my steering wheel. There's voice activation, bluetooth, navigation. I made sure I was in the car for all my phone calls today. I think that's a little wasteful, driving around the neighborhood talking on the phone, but hopefully the novelty of that will wear off.

If the car wasn't new, I would spend half my time driving and talking on the phone and the other half, driving and eating! Heck since I'm talking hands-free and I have a free hand, I could drive, talk and eat all at the same time. Ah the joy of the automatic car!

Oh, and I've spent 8 years operating the windows from the center console, what's with the crazy window controls on the door?

Low Humidity

I love summer days with low humidity. These kind of days make me incredibly happy to be alive.

And another reason to get rid of humidity is to get rid of the saying, "It's not the heat, it's the humidity." You can't live in DC and not hear that every time you mention how hot is it. No, I don't care how humid free 114 is, it's still hot. However, I did gain a new appreciation for that comment when I went to Miami in July. I really couldn't grasp how 85 degrees could be so amazingly unpleasant. Apparently, it's not the heat, it's the humidity; which, by the way, you wear like a hot wooly sweater.

But today nobody will utter those words. It's a perfect day. 72 degrees, sunny and humid free.

Tu Recuerdo

Ah, Ricky Martin. I could listen to him in English or Spanish. Of course, I only understand like three words when I listen in Spanish, but lately Tu Recuerdo speaks to me and having read the translation, I now know why.

If you feel like dancing, listen to Déjate Llevar. It will move you.

I was a closet Ricky Martin fan, but it's time to come out of the closet — the world be damned.