Why Are Mechanics So Unkind?

27 and 28 December - A late night romantitude attack from a broken hearted DJ meant less sleep than one would have hoped for (there were other factors that contributed but I'll stick with this one) and the holiday period doesn't extend to all at this time of year.  Fumbled around with spreadsheets for a while but couldn't seem to crack anything but also needed to get myself to a bicycle shoppe of some type for some urgent repairs.  Now, Chevette only weights in at a slim 9 kilos (at last weigh-in anyway) which is nothing when carrying up or down a flight of stairs - however, when you have to lug her from the bottom of Woollahra up Queen St and across Oxford (a miniscule ride but a surprisingly long walk) you start to feel it - with the chain wrapped around her hub like a xenomorph face hugger's tail around the throat of a hapless victim you can't even roll her.  Not having established much of a relationship with the overpriced Paddington based cyclery I wasn't too surprised at the standard mechanic response (leave it with us and we'll get to it sometime) - I tried to negotiate a speedy resolution but they were having none of it - can we do it now, No, we're too busy.  Can I do it myself?  No, no personal repairs in the workshop.  Can I buy the tool needed to fix it?  We don't have it.  Can I borrow the tool and do it outside?  No.  I'm stuck here mate.  Yes, well I was in an accident last week on the way to work and I had to go home (Your point???) - eventually managed managed to pique up enough interest in the intractableness of the problem to secure the services of a hammer and a pin to knock the chain out and back to her home but why do they have to make it so difficult?  It's not my fault you're stuck in a bike shop - so don't make me pay for it.  But thanks for fixing my baby all the same. Spent an evening - still living the post party life of Slurms McKenzie - but things seem to be improving on some fronts.  Late night thoughts of Excel formulae may yield results but it's doubtful - one wonders what my purpose will eventually be?  Survived another day and took a journey back to Gordon to pick up a few bits and pieces - stationery, tools, cat, time capsule, hookah, spare binikis (ah, the detritus of life).  All seems good on the eastern front - drunk too much post local pub crawl (a lot of toffs around this neck of the woods) - hangovers are never pleasant, especially when combined with machine grade noise making from slurmed out small men (who are, it must be said, doughty).