Friday, September 21, 2012

Oh, Happy Day

I really will post some of my adventures from London if I ever get over my cold. The cold developed the day before we left and I am sure my fellow passengers on the ten hour flight to Houston were delighted to hear me coughing and sneezing my way through the trip. (On the one hour flight to Baton Rouge, I slept.) At least I could rest and recuperate once I got home, I told myself. After all, the only thing I needed to do the day after I got home was get my hair done. I had an appointment for a badly needed cut and color. My hair was so unruly throughout our trip, I am sure people who saw me wondered if I had ever heard of a comb, much less owned one. It wasn’t helped by the fact that much of the time we were outdoors by the Thames where there was always a breeze. I tried to reassure myself that my hair has a certain je ne sais coif.

That is, after I unpacked, put things away, and started out a load of laundry so I would have something clean to wear for my appointment the next day. I was safely in bed by 10:30.

I was also wide awake by 4 AM.

That was fine, because I decided to go with John to the vet to pick up the cats so I could give the staff the box of chocolates I had bought them on my trip. John never goes anywhere without either a cup of hot coffee or a glass of cold tea. As he attempted to start the microwave to heat up his just brewed coffee (don’t ask), he realized it wasn’t working. He checked the circuit breaker, tried plugging it into a different outlet - nothing. Our ten year old microwave, to use a mangled phrase of my husband’s, was dead as a doorknob.

“I have one in the attic,” he told me. “I can get it down when we get back.” 

“Why do we have one in the attic?” I never go in the attic. We could have Mr. Rochester’s wife up there for all I know. 

“It was my mother’s.”

After we got the cats, I realized that I did have one phone call to make. I had never received the refund from the hotel from my cancelled Denver trip. I called the AAA customer service people, who told me I had to call the hotel, who told me I had to call Travelocity, whom AAA had used to book the hotel, who told me I had to call AAA. By time I reached them again I was crabby and coughing, there was a bad connection, and an amazingly patient person who no doubt was thinking Friday can’t come soon enough got it sorted out for me. I think.

Meantime, John had decided to switch from hot coffee to iced tea. That’s when we realized the ice maker was not working. He told me he would call the repairman after he returned some books to the library. Fortunately, he had not left by time I tried to start my car to go for my hair appointment. It would not turn over. John tried to jump start it with his car. Again nothing. He took me to my appointment, which is at least on his way to the library, and I promised to call when I was done.

I was done just in time for John to pick me up and get home to greet the repairman, who found a busted valve. Fixing that at least was cheaper than replacing the whole ice maker.

While they were dealing with that, I looked up the paperwork on my battery to discover the warrantee had expired three months ago. Of course. John disconnected the battery from my car and we drove to Auto Zone, where it was pronounced DOA and in need of replacement. $130 dollars later I had a new one and my indefatigable husband replaced it and decided we were going for pizza. What I really wanted was hot soup and a bath, but since John had been on the move since 6AM cutting grass, doing laundry, chauffeuring me around, moving the refrigerator out from the wall for the repairman, and dealing with my battery, pizza was the least he deserved. Assuming we can still afford it.

It’s a funny thing - we always seem to go out for dinner when I get my hair done. We don’t plan it that way, it just seems to happen. Fortunately, broken appliances, dead batteries, and colds don’t usually seem to happen when I get my hair done as well. Otherwise, I’d have to stop and spend all my time running around looking like I’d never heard of a comb.

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