And To Think, I Want To Learn To Change My Oil

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This morning, I took back every teeny-tiny mean thing I might had said about The Child Genius.

I had to drop my car off at the mechanics this morning and was supposed to drive whatever spare vehicle happened to be lurking about The Farm to work. Simple enough. Dropped the car off and drove to The Farm only to realize that the truck I was supposed to be driving was hooked to a very large trailer which was piled with mulch. Well, daunted slightly, but not much, I pondered my situation and thought "How hard can it be to unhook a trailer that weighs twenty times more than I do, from a truck that weighs even more than that, with my bare hands! Not TOO bad."

For the next half hour I proceeded to try and unhook this trailer. To TRY and unhook it, a little mechanism is involved where you get to crank and crankandcrankandcrank. Right. So I did that FOUR TIMES. Still couldn't get it unhooked.

So I called Barbie. She of all people should know. She knows everything! She IS WOMAN! She tried to help me over the phone. She did, sort of.

I cranked it up and down a few more times. And then. I did it.

I called my little brother out of school, stating it was a family emergency, so he could come unhook the damned trailer for me.

When he arrived home to see it was most certainly NOT a family emergency, unless we considered my startling lack of mechanic sense an emergency though obviously we did not since we had not done anything about it for the past eighty-three years, he was not upset. He did not kill me. He did not shout THANK-YOU-FOR-PULLING-ME-OUT-OF-SCHOOL-SO-I-CAN-POSSIBLY-FAIL-MY-CLASS-AND-NEVER-GO-TO-AN-IVY-LEAGUE-SCHOOL-AND-BE-STUCK-WORKING-AT-WAL-MART-IN-THE-ELECTRONICS-SECTION. No. He did not say this. The breakfast I had prepared for him, in the preperation he WOULD shout these things, was graciously accepted. He did not make me feel like an idiot. He did not throw hammers at me. Instead, he unhooked the trailer, which turned out to have a broken hitch (HAH! I am, at least slightly, redeemed!) and patted me and told me to be on my way.

And I was only an hour and ten minutes late for work.

2 Responses to “And To Think, I Want To Learn To Change My Oil”

  1. Blogger VDOprincess 

    I do so love the Child Genius. He has this most endearing way of patting one on the head from his 2 inch height advantage, and he makes lovely cups of tea. Can you ask any more of a man?

  2. Blogger V 

    This is exactly what little brothers are for! Mine has to assist car-related probs all the time.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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