As I went out to mow my grass today, I honestly thought lawn mowing issues were a best-forgotten part of my past. Perhaps that was my downfall. A disaster was looming.

This is an issue that’s been creeping up in little mini-disasters since my grass started growing again this year. The dreaded flat tire.

At first the disasters were ingorable. Sure, every row I mowed was cut higher on one side than the other. But it wasn’tbad, it was just a tiny little thing that no one but me would notice. Over time, that lopsided nature of the rows became less easily ignored, but still I mowed on, week after week. One afternoon while getting my mower out of (yet another) impossible position I’d managed to wedge it into, the Fella pointed to the back left tire. “That’s flat.”

And yes, it was. There was no denying it. I’d managed to convince myself that I was leaning to the left while riding along in the seat because my left side was significantly heavier than my right. Had nothing to do with my completely flat back left tire…. Nothing at all.

But once the Fella is on the case, he is quite persistent. He wouldn’t let me ignore the issue any more. He took my patched together cigarette-lighter charged air pump and checked to see if it was still functioning. It was not. An evening was spent re-patching, trying the cigarette lighters of both our cars, checking the fuse, and finally dumping the old piece of shit. A few days later, he bought me a new tire pump.

That was a little over two weeks ago.  The pump has been in its bag in my bedroom since. I had big plans for today (as I always do on my days off), and first on the list was eliminating the foot-tall yellow flowering weeds that had sprung up in my yard since last I operated my mower. I checked the gasoline, pulled the mower (with exceptional difficulty — flat tires make rolling heavy things difficult) out of the garage and up next to my car, where I’d assembled my tire pump. I was excited to get going on the thing until I took a closer look at the flat tire. Well F-ing A. It was the same tire Dad and I removed ages ago to such disastrous results. And when we’d put the hub cap back on (again, with exceptional difficulty — nothing about this machine is user-friendly) we’d neglected to note that the little air refill nubby thing was NOT poking through the designated hole. Essentially, this amounts to me having to REMOVE the hub cap in order to pump air into the tire.

I cried a little. Don’t think poorly of me, I know this is nothing, under normal circumstances. Removing a hub cap should be an easy business. BUT IT ISN’T. The ‘nut’ or ‘bolt’ or WHATEVER holding the hub cap on is entirely round and perfectly smooth. HOW DOES ONE REMOVE SUCH A THING? It’s about a quarter of an inch wide and butted right up against the cap, which is fairly indented at that point itself. I don’t know how else to describe this except that in the moment I saw this, I had flashes of a memory of Dad struggling to remove it before. It came off somehow after a fair amount of time on his part, but unfortunately, my flashes of memory (mostly blocked because of the misery of the experience) did not include a solution to my current predicament. Sigh.

Fortunately I have my Fella, who said he’d look at it later. Unfortunately, I’m afraid by the next opportunity I have to mow the grass, my weeds will have developed consciousness and started fighting back.

And to top it all off, I just drank a swig of a diet coke that’s been sitting on my bedside table for three days. Blurgh. But it’s been awhile since I’ve had any frustrations to vent in this forum, so cheers to that!

PS, Happy Birthday Mom!! I love you!

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I must say, with the exception of my hubby being out of town and all the strange things that seem to suck about my life, I am really loving being alive right now. My job is, frankly, awesome. My co-workers are, clearly, some of the most amusing people in Auburn. And, bonus, they think I’m sorta funny too.

Because I wrote and scheduled my post from this afternoon at about five o’clock this morning, I missed getting to take note of a few truly special things that happened today. So, this bonus post seeks to remedy that.

  • First, I drove like a maniac to work this morning because I was late and STILL a little off from the blood donating. Also, I was definitely woozy last night when I let myself into the house because part of the reason I was late was that I couldn’t find my keys. Where were they? Stuck in the outside key hole of my back door. Brilliant.
  • If I haven’t made it clear, I spend a vast majority of my days laughing. Hysterically. So it is natural that when walking out of the building with ComiColl after a long day of laughing, when I saw a rather odd skateboarder who was swerving all over the place and I was thinking to myself, “That guy is going to run into us” and then the skateboarder hopped up and tried to be super smooth and he really just didn’t succeed. He looked really goofy. And I busted out laughing. In this poor college student’s face. I am a horrible person. Worse? I couldn’t stop laughing, had to turn my back on the poor person, and just kept on cracking up and couldn’t stop. I’m on the bus straight to hell.
  • The Boss, ComiColl and newly named Splint-Ter-Rific {STR} (a comic book fan who’s sensei-like personality reminds me of the mentor of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles)  all really wanted to know if I creamed the curb again today. And since I’m sure my readers do too, I will share: I totally avoided hitting the curb on the way out of the parking lot today. Success!
  • I made a couple of stops on the way home. The first was at a random tire place that was clearly just about to close down for the evening. There were seven men standing around the counter and when I walked in, all of them stared at me as if they’d never seen a woman in a pencil skirt and heels before. I can’t say this wasn’t mildly gratifying, but the staring sort of got in the way of good service. Also, if they were going to stare, they could have given me free things like most of the other mechanics I’ve met have. I got a much better deal at the next place I stopped, where I was not ogled.
  • At the second stop, the adorable little woman behind the desk asked me in a creepy way about ten minutes after I’d handed her a sheet of paper with my personal information on it “if that big house across the street is still that ugly green color.” I can honestly say, I stood there gaping at her for a minute before I realized she must have recognized my address. I pulled it together as she explained that her grandparents had lived close by for quite a long time. And apparently their neighbors had a pea green house.

And that, in about as many words as the original post for the day, is today’s bonus content. Feel special. I know I do.

I swear things keep happening to me on Wednesdays. And Thursdays. And Saturdays…oh. Right. Things just keep happening.

Today I left work thinking I had a ready-made post in hand. As predicted, my life got all weird again in short order when I made the (probably) unwise decision to make an appointment to give blood at the blood drive at the student center during my lunch break. I arrived for the appointment two minutes early and was told they’d had an unforeseeable and unfixable delay and I’d probably have to wait half an hour before giving blood. Fine. I’d just clocked out and had 50 minutes left to donate to this cause. Because I hadn’t had time to eat before my appointment, I figured I’d just have a little lunch post-donation. This plan was tossed out the window 45 minutes later when I was just being called back to be questioned rigorously regarding my traveling, tattoos, and sexual adventures (such as they may be). Obviously, this was going to require more than my hour-long lunch break, but, having checked in with The Boss and gotten the go-ahead, I decided to plow on through.

Please note: I’ve done this before. Many, many times. It has been awhile, however, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never donated blood on an empty stomach. This, my friends, is an awful idea. At the very least I should have had about a gallon of water beforehand to puff up my veins, because they were apparently near-impossible to locate (and I remember so vividly the ease with which my veins were usually located and punctured in past experiences). Also, I never watch this part. It usually doesn’t hurt too badly and I’m not generally tempted to look over and see what’s going on. But once she started digging and wiggling, I couldn’t help myself. I looked. Ladies and Gents, this is a huge needle. I’m known for my exaggerations, but I was literally shocked by the size of the metal tube protruding from my arm. This definitely started me down the path to faintness.

Almost immediately, I got light headed. (PS, Sista Friend, you might want to stop reading – you’ll probably fall out just reading about this) I power through as I’ve recently powered through a MUCH WORSE situation involving one (ONE!) mojito and an empty stomach. I was determined I wasn’t passing out. Jeez, a dude passed out while I was waiting and I was making fun of him so hard in my head. I wasn’t going to let that happen to me.

Anyway, they saw I looked pretty crappy (I’m sure) and made me lie down. At which point, I stopped bleeding. For reals, folks. Ginormous needle in my vein and the well was dry. More digging, by multiple phlebotomists. A few minutes did the trick, briefly. Then, dry as a bone again. More nurses, more needle wiggling. Un. Fun.

By the time they finally pulled the darned needle out of my arm, it was nearly two hours after my lunch break began. I hadn’t had lunch and I didn’t have time to pass out. I had to get back to my desk.

So, probably right on the verge of keeling over, I hauled myself, my extremely heavy purse and my uneaten lunch back to my building, and probably made a fool out of myself for the next hour or two.

I thought that would be the end of my adventures for the day. Honestly, a two-hour lunch break in which I didn’t even eat lunch was enough for one day. But my day got even more fun when I was pulling out of the parking lot and, followed by Comical Colleague (you may remember him from his first appearance, here, grimacing at my lunch choices) in his own vehicle. Apparently blood flow to my brain was still a little low because I really nailed the curb when I turned the corner. ComiColl, true to form, made fun of me through my rearview mirror. Then I drove away and didn’t think of it again.

Until I was getting close to home and my car started making some very unfortunate noises and slowed down. Realizing I had a flat tire, I pulled over (in what amounted to about three feet from the middle of a fairly busy road, by Opelika’s standards) and turned on the hazards. Surveyed the damage. Large tear in tire. Thank God I had a spare, but I’m not sure who to thank for the lack of a jack. Also, it was sprinkling. And muggy. And I was wearing wool pants.

Anyway, Hubby, as  you know, is out of town. Hubby’s friend in town didn’t pick up the phone and I really need to get some co-workers’ cell phone numbers because I was pretty sure I was going to have to obtain some superhuman strength, lift the car off the ground, unscrew the flat tire, attach the spare, and drive away without ruining my clothes or passing out from lack of food/blood.

Fortunately I was rescued by a rather disgusting looking mechanic (I tell you, the mechanics of the world love me. Mechanics and Truckers. Who knows why.) who had two jacks in his car and managed to, after half an hour, solve my problems. All I had to do was watch and say thank you.

So, now I have to skip lunch on Friday to make up for my two-hour long lunch today (so I can lunch with another co-worker tomorrow, soon to be renamed for this forum) and find time between now and Friday afternoon to get my tire repaired or replaced and then drive two hours to Birmingham to spend the holiday weekend with my Hubby whom I miss very much.

Somehow my brain held out as I spent the last three hours typing this up and stuffed my face with leftover pie and a Lean Pocket. Still feeling peakish. Fingers and lips are tingling like I’ve had a bit too much to drink.

Time for ‘The End,’ I think 🙂