Last night I did my part as a modern-day hunter-gatherer and drove out to the local Chipotle fast food emporium to shoot us some salads for dinner. After waiting about four days (well, that's what it felt like) in the traditional Chipotle Line from Hell I finally got our food and returned to the car, where I found the left rear tire flatter than Twiggy's ... well ... it was pretty flat. Nothing like changing a tire in a parking lot while wedged into the space between your car and the one parked too close to you on the other side.
Grrr, as Andrea would say.
Once I got the old tire off, I discovered a very large, very sharp chunk of metal embedded in it. Now, where the #%@! did that come from? I'm used to getting a flat every time someone in the neighborhood gets a new roof, because roofers relieve their boredom by spreading nails all over the place, but this looked like a big piece of Baghdad-quality shrapnel. AARRGGHH!! I manage to avoid all the monster potholes that threaten to eat my car, and now this.
So today I get to enjoy the matchless excitement of spending a few hours buying a new tire (or two). This is not an experience that matches the usual weekend delight of playing with the local grandchildren, although it is easier on my back. I think I'll need that supersized gin and tonic by the time evening rolls around.
No deep thoughts for today. Just a wish for some not-too-drastic misfortune to befall whoever left that chunk of metal for me to drive over. Let's see...how about a new Biblical plague suitable for the 21st Century? If Moses could call down frogs, locusts, darkness, and rivers of blood on the Egyptians, perhaps I could call down a plague of door-to-door preachers, or perhaps tie the miscreant to a chair and force him to listen to a few hours of Sarah Palin speeches.
No, I wouldn't wish that on anybody.
Have a good day. Watch out for sharp things on the road.
More thoughts tomorrow.
P.S. - Now that summer is here and a young man's thoughts turn to ... well ... those things a young man's thoughts turn to when it's warm and the young ladies aren't wearing eighty-seven layers of clothes like they do in February ... here is a useful visual aid to help you distinguish the real from the not-so-real:
Don't thank me. It's all part of the service.