and the car stopped...

... well into the middle of a two lane road, causing much traffic jam behind. I slid into the passenger side with three packets of oil (not apples, as I had originally thought and bought, and come home with only to be asked where the oil was) and attempted to start the car. The battery was dead. People honked behind, and I shouted 'shut up' at everybody who made snide comments at me. Mood enhancing as you can see. Finally the car was pushed by three men from the supermarket, one of whom started it for me, allowing me to return home.
I finally finished that infintely boring book, White Mughals. About which I want to rant. I can understand that writers can and many times do lose sight of the plot (yes, Mr Daylrymple), but what the heck were the editors doing? Proofreading? Shouldn't they have been able to tell the writer that this book is not going to hold any reader's attention? And that it would be a better book if it were 300 pages shorter? Or is William Dalyrmple's name enough to sell anything? The only consolation I have on this book is that somebody gifted it to us.
I have decided to take the night off tonight. No work, i.e. Romance and horlicks. Accompanied by mosquito killing.