Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Morale of the Story?

Monday was one of those days when it looked like it ought to be warmer than it was. The sun was bright and our house was warm. My wall gauge and my computer could have told me the temperature if I would have bothered to look. Moreover, a click of the mouse would have given me the wind chill. I went from the house to the garage where I had trouble getting the car started. For some reason it didn’t want to start although it has a fairly new battery. After a few tries, it finally sputtered, coughed out some black smoke, and then started. It seemed to run fine. After dropping our daughter off at school, I drove straight to the car dealer, parked it, and turned it off. I waited a moment and then cranked the engine. It started right up. I turned it off and started it a few more times; there was no trouble. So, I left the parking lot and headed to my Mom’s house. I was toasty warm and the sun was still shining brightly when I arrived. However, it didn’t take me long to determine that I was underdressed for the occasion. Nevertheless, I began taking down my Mom’s Christmas lights off her house. At first, using the ladder, I plucked each light holder from the gutter individually. When I got that deep bone chill, I stood on the ground and pulled the wire down popping the lights with their holders off the gutter. It worked well and fast. Afterwards, I only had to retrieve a few light holders which held fast to the gutter. Next, I went into her house to take down the artificial tree. Are those things supposed to fit back in their box?! I’m sure if Mom would have been home that she could have told me the secret, but my arm which had already been seized by the cold had enough of the tree in short order. The box bulged a bit in its worn condition, but I got the tree into the attic without too much further trouble. I then went back in and saw all the little needles that needed to be vacuumed up. It was quite tempting to leave that to someone else but instead I looked in a couple of closets for the vacuum cleaner. Finding none, my intensely aching arm and I were glad to leave. As I reached the back door, there I saw it. The yellow machine stared at me and dared me to walk past it. I very much wanted to but I didn’t. So, I grabbed the yellow vacuum cleaner and began the cleanup. It was only 10am and I had already royally ticked my arm off. But I had a few more things I had to get done before I could nurse-maid it. Thankfully the car started and I pushed on. So, what’s the morale to the story? There really isn’t one; that’s just how my day started!!

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