Tuesday, June 3, 2008


Sometimes things just don't go right. Sometimes things go downright wrong. This weekend was one of those times.


It started on Saturday, with some work on the truck that took longer than expected. Replacing a clutch pedal bracket should have taken two hours.

It should have, but it didn't. It took five hours of taking out every screw within a five foot radius of the clutch. So many screws in fact, that my magnetic bowl for holding screws overfloweth.


Small plastic things were breaking off, flying in all directions never to be seen again.


In the end I had to remove my steering column in order to get the old bracket out, and managed to drop this heavy son of a gun squarely on my shoulder.




I would like to say that Sunday was a better day. I would like to, but I can't.


We headed down to Phoenix, to swim in the mother-in-law's (MIL) pool. We had the dogs in tow, figuring that we could teach Lola the finer points of flailing around in water (as seen before, Scrappy is already an accomplished water-flailer)

We figured that while we were at it we would teach MIL's new puppy, Star, to swim as well.


If you ever have the opportunity to drag puppies who are perfectly happy playing with each other OUTSIDE of the pool, into a blue watery death bowl (as they seemed to perceive it), you should politely decline.


See, the problem is puppy claws. These little things were god's original version of razor blades. As I would drag them into the water (kicking and whining of course) they would begin the aforementioned flailing in earnest. I have to keep at least some hold on them so that I can get them turned in the right direction to get back to the stairs (and relative safety). Keeping this hold proved a very painful endeavor, and resulted in scratches which were both numerous and deep.


If there had been sharks in that water, the blood would have gotten them circling in no time.


The highlight of the idiocy though, was when I decided to dive off of the diving board. There should be a sign warning Polish people not to do anything so seemingly-simple as this.


As I floated back to the surface I contemplated the newfound pain in my face. There had been an instant when I saw a bright light taking me home, and then it had resolved into nothing more than the concrete bottom of the pool.

Being the total idiot that I am, I decided to keep the fact that I had dove 10 feet down into a 9 ft deep pool to myself. About twenty minutes later DaNece finally noticed, and I had to relate my shameful tale to her.


She laughed of course.


As I sit here writing this I look like somebody beat me with the ugly stick, and am fairly certain that my nose is in actuality broken. Hooray me!

Definitely one of the few times when I have been happy to just get back to the relative safety of work.

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