I took my car to the dealership service center today, because it had been running sluggishly these past weeks, and was also in need of a snow-tire change, new wiper blades, and some other not overtly expensive services. Then at 2:30, the service man called me with the bad news: You need new breaks. To the tune of a thousand bucks.
Funny how this information actually intensified my desire to suddenly be killed in a car crash. Ironic even. But how would it seem if i'd said to the service man, "Nah, don't bother. I've actually been waning on the whole will to live thing lately, and no breaks on my car seems like somewhat of a winfall at this point!" No, not particularly appropriate.