I Need a Cracked Oxygen Sensor Like I Need a Hole in the Head

For  this I paid $360? No, it's not an IUD.

Yesterday I wrote that the “check engine” light on my Volvo came on…again. For like, what? The ten thousandth time this year? Maybe there should be a light that says, “check 'check engine' light.” So, it turns out there are three million reasons why the check engine light might come on. You think any of them are any good? You think a single one costs less than a hundred bucks to fix? Don't ask. George, my goy mechanic who makes like, what? Five hundred dollars an hour? What does he think, he’s my endocrinologist? Anyway, he tells me I have a cracked oxygen sensor. I already know there’s oxygen. It’s everywhere. I need my car to tell me this? And surprise, surprise, it's going to cost a lot to fix. What am I? The Bank of America? But George says if I don’t fix it the check engine light will torment me and my gas mileage will be bubkis. With my luck I’m going to spend $3,000 fixing things and then George is going to tell me my check engine light is faulty.

And speaking of faulty. My wife? Judy? Married twenty years. You think she could screw the cap back on the toothpaste? This is too much to ask?