Still Climbing

Dear Reader, I'm here to let you know that I extricated myself from the fix that you found me in a few days back.

Or, was it a few weeks back?! (Greased Lightening!--that's how my dear old dad used to describe TIME, when he had reached an advanced age, such as mine]).

So, after sniffing the scent of burnt rubber, and pulling off the road, I had called the young man to whom I was scheduled to show an apartment, and I had explained the fact that I was stranded with a flat tire.  When he heard my predicament, this young man had offered,
"You're just a half-mile away? I'll come put your spare tire on for you!"

"Well, uh..."  I stammered.  This was a first!  I knew I could call AAA*.  But...there was that dinner date...and, and...

"Okay!" I said.  "If you're sure you want to."

Soon the would-be tenant showed up, along with his sister (who is already a tenant of mine). This bodes well, I thought.  Perhaps things will move quickly!  (Reader Dear, I didn't expect it to go like greased lightening, but, you know...).

It was coming-home-from-school time, traffic of all kinds was streaming by (there were Amish school children, who, I might point out, likely will never need to deal with burnt rubber tires!)


Well, then...argh...the would-be tenant couldn't get the spare tire out of the rear of the car, couldn't unbolt the plastic "tray" that held the tools and covered the tire.  After he'd worked on it for a while, I thought about calling the guy who deals with all the plumbing problems for me at the apartments.  He's a long-time friend and lives just a quarter-mile away from the spot I now found myself in.

I called Ron, the plumber guy.  He joined the crew.
Turns out, nobody knew what to do!

As I made a call to AAA, the two guys (Ron and the would-be tenant) at the back of my car decided to beat the plastic tray into bits.

It was loud!  I had a hard time hearing the AAA dispatcher.  "Call me before you send someone," I shouted.  "I might get lucky with my good Samaritans!"   Sure enough, Reader Dear, just as the dispatcher called me back and was telling me who it was that was coming to my assistance, the two who had been beating away at the problem triumphantly removed the tire and set to installing it.

****
I'm going to jump forward in time, Dear Reader.  Since it's moving at such a clip, anyway, why try to catch up with every little trivial detail?

I gave a very speedy showing of the apartment.  I called that Husband-of Mine and we met at the spot where his route to the restaurant and my route home intersected.  I leaped into his car, and off we went.  The roads were clogged with rush-hour traffic!

As you may have guessed, Dear Reader, we were late for the dinner date.
ONE MINUTE late!**
*********

*American Automobile Association (to which one can subscribe for "roadside assistance"

**"You can't afford another speeding ticket!" I loudly cautioned the HM. "You're liable to lose your license! It's not worth it! Slow down!"***

**********

***While it might have added an interesting twist to the plot, I'm here to thankfully tell you, Dear One, that though the HM did not heed my advice, neither did he get caught for speeding!  We enjoyed a delightful dinner with friends, and arrived home feeling fine, and with the HM's driving license intact. So, hurrah for "All's well that ends well"

Keep your fingers crossed, however (if you so kindly would, Reader Dear)  as to,  "Be sure your sins will find you out!"

The Scent of Burning Rubber

Reader Dear, is not a pleasant scent.  I've never seen a candle, room freshener, or even a stick of deodorant labeled "Burnt Rubber".*  But, alas, when things start to spiral out of control sometimes that's the scent that ends up telling the story.  It can make one believe that one has just fallen into a big old pile of rotten bad luck.  But, let me hasten to tell you the tale.

Yesterday, my day was full.  Activities and responsibilities came one after another with little room to spare.  Calm down, calm down, I told myself.  Just keep moving along and you'll be fine.  And, utilizing a rare case of optimism, I took my word for it.

However, Dear Reader,  there was the twist.  Ah, yes.  The Twist*.

All I needed to do was run to the apartments (Surely you will recall, Dear Reader of Mine, the rental tales).I had set a time to show an apartment to an interested would-be renter.  Then I would dash back home and leave with that Husband-of-Mine for a dinner date with friends.  The restaurant was nearly a half-hour's drive away.  I made sure I was quite ready to leave for the dinner date prior to leaving for the apartment showing.  Traffic is very heavy in the late afternoon hours, we all know.

Still, I could make it!  Appointment to show apartment: 4:00.  Dinner: 5:30.

Backing from the driveway I suddenly thought of my phone.
Did I have it? Was it buried in my purse?
I tried searching with one hand  (the purse has four zippered pockets; what absurdity) while driving with the other (happy to have two hands, but three or even four could have been subtly suggested to the Creator by Adam, if not Eve, herself).

Speeding up the tale (while slowing the car) I abruptly pulled off the road for a better search.  I hit a large rock.  I discovered the phone truly was missing.  I pulled back onto the road, backed up slowly, nervously, and carefully.  I re-entered the driveway, re-entered the house, retrieved my phone, got back on the road.  If I sped up ever so slightly, I'd still make it to the apartments by four o'clock.

Except.  What was this?!  The car was throwing a  tantrum, difficult to steer.  No, no, I tried to convince myself.  It must be my imagination. (Optimism, however, as I continued on down the road, was beginning to seep away like air from a slashed tire). The steering and the noise got ever more disturbing.  I crept on, hoping to make the complete four-and-a-half mile drive to the destination before giving up.

Four miles into the drive I got the clear and distinct smell of burnt rubber.  BURNT RUBBER!  Furthermore, the car began to shake and rattle most fearsomely.  I could tell there was something seriously wrong with the right front quadrant.  Was the whole wheel coming off the car?

As all sensible drivers would do, I stopped the car (yes, yes, Reader Dear, I know an argument could be made for that thing that you're thinking--sooner would have been better! Truly sensible drivers would have put on the brakes earlier! [ I'm going to just ignore that])  I put on my four-way blinkers.  I called the would-be renter to inform him that I was a mere half-mile away, but couldn't be there as scheduled.

...to be continued...

*The candle I've got burning right now is labeled: "Richly Scented Candle. Paperwhite Vanilla". Ahhh...

Do You Recall that Saxophone Concert

that the HM and I attended about five months ago, Reader Dear?

Please know that I will not fault you if you are exclaiming, "A concert five months ago?! Merciful Musical Mutterings, how am I to remember one particular concert out of all the various ones you're forever running to, subsequently posting to your blog?!"

Well, here's the thing.  The HM and I, we were not aware of the fall and winter Community Concerts that have been taking place locally for years and years (decades and decades, actually. Believe it or not, these concerts have taken place for scores and scores of years. It's true).  Had our friends not shared tickets with us in late winter,  we'd still be lounging on the sofa at home, possibly watching TV, during six Wednesday evenings throughout this current season of concerts.  What folly!




The HM and I, we now have season tickets.  They are such a bargain.



Next things next, Listener Dear, I must inform you that you'll be hearing about concerts all year long now--these indoor ones in the fall-winter-spring and the outdoor ones in the summer.  Get ready!



Concert One of the current season was held a few  weeks ago.  It was performed by an Irish-born man and three women who sang a lot of opera pieces.  We were asked to refrain from recording the music, but then at one point we were asked to join in.  With the HM singing there beside me, I decided I'd record the HM's  voice.

If you happen to hear Ciaran's voice as well, Listener Dear, I suppose I cannot be held responsible.

 It's not often one has two persons singing along together (in person, in such close proximity) with such feeling, regarding falling in love with the one listening  (though I can't say it's never happened before).

After the concert, there was the usual activity.
The buying of CD's was welcomed, of course.  I chose the one that included both Danny Boy and Shenandoah, and asked for an autograph. 

And then I chose a photo with the "acclaimed actor, singer, voice healer whose performances have been said to warm the heart and touch the soul."

Hmm. Yes.  I believe it's true--his singing warmed my heart and touched my soul.    Sorry you missed it, Listener Dear.*
*********
*If you care to have your heart touched and your soul warmed, please search out a performance by Ciaran Sheehan.


***********

It's a Toss-up

It was Day Two.
I was settled in for the duration.
My plan was to spend the day in bed, rumpled sheets beneath me, tissue box beside me, cough drop packet nearby, laptop atop my lap.

But, first, of course, I needed fortifications.
I shuffled downstairs and made myself a cup of coffee.
I tore a banana off the bunch.

I carried the coffee, the banana, the phone charger and a back-up box of tissues laboriously upstairs.
I settled in.
I was so proud of myself.

Ahem.  Pride, they say, goeth before a spill.*

Coffee, they say (though perhaps it's not a widespread bit of wisdom) will splash out of a lidded mug if one's trying to handle the removal of the lid while sneezing.  To put it simply, Reader Dear, I spilled coffee directly onto the keyboard of my laptop.  Quickly, I thrust the box of tissues and the half-peeled banana and the phone aside set down the mug hurried to shake the laptop over the bathroom sink.  I shook it and shook it.  I wiped it clean.

No harm done! I told myself, out loud and emphatically.

I spent the rest of the day staring out the window and sneezing
I read a book.
I tried to pretend I was living in the 1800's.

Day Three was quite similar.

Day Four I cautiously had lunch with HM and friends.

Day Five I rose early.  I carried my pitiful laptop to the Apple Store at the local mall.

In (what could have been a lovely coincidence, had I wished to buy the latest model of Apple Iphone) the store had just opened for business with the latest model of Apple Iphone to sell.  Simply put, the store was mobbed!

*****
Inching.
Inching.



******

Reader Dear, I've tossed that cold!  I'm well again.  Alas, I had to toss the laptop as well.  I threw away the cough drop packet, gathered every last used tissue from dresser top and bed and floor and threw them away, tidied up the pile of magazines and books, carried the empty mug(s) downstairs, washed the sheets, spent one-half of a day at the Apple Store, carried home a brand-new laptop, spent the equivalent of half a day trying desperately to figure out how to make the brand new laptop  behave at least as well as the coffee-besmirched one had done before I had to toss it.

******

 I'm inching along, trying to catch up.

******
Spill: rough synonym for "fall"

You May Think,

Reader Dear, that the Devil is in the details.  But I'm here to contend that the Devil is in the used, wadded-up, wet tissues I've just thrown into the trash bin!

Aargh.  The Common Cold has Conquered!

1. It has conquered my will to get out of bed.
2. It has conquered my will to dress myself in something other than pajamas.
3. It has conquered my will to do anything more productive than make myself a cup of coffee.
4. It has conquered my will to look at the clock as it ticks toward noon.
5. It has conquered my will to stop thinking of 1:00 p.m. as the "new noon".
6. It has conquered my will to stop thinking of myself as Mother Theresa for staying home all day and not spreading the virus around.
7.  It has NOT, however (no, I will NOT allow it! the Devil be damned), conquered my will to stop making this list and start thinking of things to do that are actually worthwhile and productive and helpful to the world...*

THE END!
(As I grab for a tissue, and produce another sneeze that would break the Richter Scale)


*You know,  a la Mother Theresa, for real.
Or, maybe Michelle Obama.
Er, well, at least like the next door neighbor woman, who is working in her flower beds.