All my kids are mad at me for petty little things that aren't even my fault. I wonder if there is some strange curve of the emotional gamut that they all hit at the same time. I feel like saying to them that if I die on the table Monday the only one who would miss me would be the dog. I know that's too harsh, so I'll bite my tongue like the gut (good) Mutter (mother) that I am. (That's with LONG vowel sounds for those of you who think my name refers to my stomach). I had my 20,000 mi. servicing on my exotic little Tiburon yesterday which included a tire rotation and there was a huge shimmy on the way back home. I called and they said, Oh yeah, you need to have those balanced, but that's not included in the price. So I have to go back this morning at an additional $65 or so. Piss-ants.