Tags
"A stitch in time saves nine", "Adversity reveals our true selves.", "Be Prepared", "Life's a bitch.", "Plan for the unexpected.", "When the going gets tough- the tough get going.", Alone, Baching It, Des Moines Iowa, Nieto, Patricia T. Kenel. goddess
“When the going gets tough, the tough get going.”
“Be prepared.”
“Plan for the unexpected.”
“Adversity reveals our true selves.”
“Life’s a bitch.”
I bached it last weekend. My beloved flew to Des Moines, Iowa to visit nuestro nieto, our grandson, and, coincidentally, John’s parents, our son and his bride. Eleven-hundred miles separated me from my goddess, a separation that led to a near complete breakdown in civilized behavior on my part.
In public there was no discernible change in my routine, but in the privacy of my own home I grew complacent and slack. Sunday night drew nigh and I realized that I had not purchased my pre-packaged, nearly-all-inclusive, just-add-meat, salad-variety-packs that I bring for lunch at work.
Sighing deeply, I examined my sweat pants and grungy tee-shirt, peeled off the sweats and slipped into a pair of shorts (I left the grungy-shirt. I was just going grocery shopping) and walked into the warm-for-February Sunday-night-darkness.
Swiping my phone to the right, I punched in the last four digits of Jenny’s number (she’s always been the girl for me- she don’t know me but she makes me so happy) and activated Google-Maps to show me the way not to San Jose, but rather Harris Teeter. I knew full well that the grocery store was just a short distance south on Kildaire Farm Road, but a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do! I started my car, noted the “Low Tire Pressure” warning light, shrugged and moved my gear shift from “P” to “D.”
Low Pressure? Harris Teeter’s less than a mile away; what could go wrong?
Well, the first thing that could go wrong is I could get lost. In less than a mile. Down one road. (Note to self: Harris Teeter is on the west side of Kildaire Farm, Whole Foods is on the east.)
Maybe I got lost because my wife nearly always drives and I passenger. Maybe I got lost because the car’s steering wheel was noticeably rocking. Maybe I got lost because I’m an idiot. Maybe I got lost because of all three. In any case, I found myself on the wrong side of the road and decided to look at my tire.
Aye, yi, yi! Not good. That thing was so flat I should have changed to the spare right then and there. I didn’t, but I should have. You know that question concerning why I got lost? Pretty sure the answer is number three. Soy muy tonto! I wound my way to H.T., did my minimal, minimalistic shopping and drove home.
After stashing my half-gallon of ice-cream in the freezer (What? You think I can develop a body like this just eating salad?) I grabbed my bicycle pump and started up-downing. One hundred strokes brought me from fifteen to 25 psi and a hundred more bumped me to 35. Satisfied, I went inside, ate one of my salads, followed that up with one-half of one-half gallon of ice-cream, left my dirty dishes in the sink (Baching it!) and went to bed.
The next morning it was more than dirty dishes and mung-mouth that greeted me, it was a completely deflated and fully unoperational Corolla. Woe is me! What to do?
Well, what I do 99% of the time, get on my bike and ride, leaving the car to sit, flat tire and all until I had time to attend to it. That time was Thursday, the attention in the form of installing the mini-doughnut-spare and driving to Firestone in need of some Hans and Franz style pumping. Alas, my tire was dead. Having sat on the car’s rim for the better part of 85 hours, it was new tire time.
And what lesson did I learn from this?
None. Nada. Nunca. Nichts. Nein. Nothing.
Welcome to America, land of the fee and home of the rave. Self-reliance, service to others and a stitch-in-time-saves-nine died with Benjamin Franklin. I’m living large and having another beer.
May Dog have mercy on my soul.
keithakenel 