Innies vs. Outies

John B. showed up before George did, but George is here now. And Andy just called saying he was on his way, too.

It's a boy party out there in my driveway!

When they went out to look at Chuck, they invited me to come along (because, ahem, I'm the only one who drives him), but I demurred. I don't know anything about cars. I wish I did -- oh, my lordy how I wish I did -- but I don't. And Johnny knows as well as I do what's been happening when I turn the key. So I figured I would just be in the way.

This boy/girl thing? I don't want to harp on it, but it's true. I didn't used to think it was -- I used to vehemently deny the possibility of any such sexist thing -- but, eleven years into this heterosexual relationship, I now acknowledge that it's true.

They're different, those outies. And as much as we innies try to tolerate their foibles and ponder over what might be going through their outie minds, I think they're a little bit afraid of us. So I didn't want to be out there, leaning over the engine and knowing nothing, possibly making some one of them scared to speak his mind.

But I have to just point out, now that they're finished and have come back to report, it turns out the problem is the starter motor. Which is what I said it was two weeks ago. And Mommie Dearest confirmed it (a proud innie her ownself). This was before Andy said it was the battery and replaced it for me. Before John B. decided it was a bad wire. Before George got here and did the diagnostics. And before Johnny claimed to have "said it was the starter all along."

I'm sorry, what was that you said, my dear? Oh yes, I heard you this time...

Innies rule!

But don't tell the outies that I said so. Chuck (TFT) still needs to get fixed, and this innie hasn't learned how to do that yet.