Funny That

Found out Friday night that Nat's mom is ill. Something told me to skip DnD this weekend. I'm not sure why I just decided to bail last Monday. It is a bit predestine.

We went to Nat's mom's place. We picked her up. We went to eat. Nat accidentally caught her mom and Elle's fingers in the car windows. We ended up in the emergency room for four hours. Nat's mom has a cut on her middle finger. She needed some stitches. Elle is fine. We got an X-ray just to be sure.

I had plans on doing all kinds of cool stuff. I wanted to put the other set of shelves together. I wanted to do some yard work. I wanted to do some blogging. I sat in the lobby of a hospital and watched the news for three or four hours.

It's funny how life makes some turns. If I hadn't gone along, I'm sure Nat's mom would have been in the front seat and I bet neither of them would have had their fingers in the window.

When i got home, I put the shelves together. I left the garage door shut and nearly passed out from the heat. I opened the door and got stormed by bugs. I ended up not able to get the shelves "stacked" like they are supposed to be. Thus, I ended up with two sets of shorter shelves in stead. No biggie. I'll get the other kind of shelves if I can next time.

Once that was ... done. I decided to change the oil in the lawn mower. Hey, it's after eleven on a Saturday evening. Why not?

I dump the lawn mower upside down to let the oil drain out the spigot. I have no idea how else to do it. I only have synthetic oil and I have no idea what kind of oil is in it. Not all that much comes out of the mower. A bunch of gas comes out and gets all over the mower. I flip it back over and find out that the tube is full of oil so I can't tell just how empty it is. I need to wait thirty minutes to let the oil drain out of the spigot back into the engine proper.

Now, I'm dripping with sweat. I mean dripping. I no longer have eyebrows. The sweat is gushing from my bald head straight into my eyes. It made hanging on the second set of shelves fun. I, the hammer and the shelves all wet from perspiration. Me banging away. Every time I hit the hammer to metal, a bead of sweat would leave my head, hit my glasses and bounce into my eye. Very nice. I could hear my father haller "Why don't I sweat one more drop?!" Whatever the hell that meant.

Now, I'm sitting next to the mower, on the ground, soaked in sweat, swatting myself in circles, smelling of gasoline. All I need is a bottle of Jack and I'm in business.

I pulled the car back in the garage and went in side. Nat was already asleep and said she dreampt I was banging metal dragons in the head in the garage.

I'm watching some horrible movies that came in over the last couple of days. I don't know who paid for this crap to be made. One is about Taiwan cattle ranchers being replaced by tractors. Another is about Australian participation in WWII. There was another, but I don't remember what it was.

Now I'm writing a blog. Few, I'm caught up. I didn't get much done. The family did. We are all pretty much fine. The racers are out in force. I fear I may yet have something to say about their sport in my neck of the woods tonight.