I have returned from the Ohio Valley to a library area in great disarray.
With permission, of course, while I was away, my guys threw out my old desk. Behind it was a mess of mold on the wall from when the downspout was clogged. They had to wash the wall with bleach, use special mold resistant primer, then paint that corner.
And they moved the bookcases!
My computer never moved (although there is a new printer next to it), but since the bookcases are not so close, I don’t feel like I am off in a foreign country.
Well, anyway, I will write about the trip after I have had time to mentally process all that happened with my family, and when I get the pictures sorted into folders.
Meanwhile, Husband found an old Dear Ones newsletter I sent out in late January 2004. Since the temperature got up to 86 today, reading about colder times might be nice.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
Tried to do so much this evening.
Had to get fuel in the car. Gone are the days when I could pull up to the pump and say “Fill ‘er up, Dave”. Oh no, my doctor says I need more exercise.
Got some at the gas station. With the temperature at about 14o, and the wind blowing pretty strong from the west, I had to get my credit card out of the wallet, umm, the purse is on the back seat. Then reach for the lever to open the gas cover’s door.
This is the same lever that opens the trunk when moved in the opposite direction.
Guess which way my hand twitched.
So, I walk around to close the trunk. The wind blew the door shut. My keys are on the seat. However, the Passenger door is unlocked. Whew.
I walk around to reach in and get the keys. The wind blows the door tighter. My thighs have a bruise from the handle.
I thaw out my hands, unscrew the cover, finally turn around to put the card into the pump. Hand-lettered sign—this pump is not accepting credit cards. Close everything up, start the car and drive to the next pump. Make Sure that it works. Oh yeah.
While the tank is filling, I decide that there is so much light in the station that I can check the oil. My car has a bit of a leak there, it’s good to keep an eye on the levels. It needs a quart. There are several bottles in the trunk. Make the dipstick happy, click down the prop, drop the hood.
Unnoticed, the hem of my coat is too close. Fingers more important than coat.
The opening lever for the hood is between the driver’s seat and the door. There will be NO opening of the hood to loosen coat until lever has been yanked.
In 14o weather, I take off the coat, go open the door, pull the lever.
This loosens the hood just enough, so with its weight unsupported, the coat drops to the slushy mess there in the lot.
Meanwhile, the pump has done its business and is Beeping like the robot on LOST IN SPACE. “I will explode unless you press my button now”
The tank’s screw-on cover got warped somehow, perhaps from the cold. I could barely get it back on.
I didn’t Want to put my coat back on.
For the next fill-up, I think I’ll send the teenager.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
4 Responses to This is a Filler