Ordeal By Household Appliances
Had another session with Tattoo Artist Extraordinaire Joe Rose last night. Two weeks ago, we brought the chain over my shoulder, so last night it was extended down--over my clavicle--rounding my pec, and then back up to my upper deltoid.
It hurt, especially the clavicle part, but I took it pretty well. I was just in the mind to take some ink last night. Too, we're pretty much in the home stretch at this point. Only my left arm remains. And then, we're done. (Except for the touch up. But that will be a few months away.)
Joe started in on me right away, so I was out of there at 9:15. I grabbed a latte at Starbucks, and rushed back to my car to catch the debate. My own debate analysis: pretty much a tie. Bush did a lot better this time, and Kerry was just brilliant. But what really struck me was the fact that just about all of the questions posed by the audience seemed biased against Bush. Some even getting into 'When did you stop beating your wife?' territory. Now that's really interesting.
And it killed me how when Bush was posed one of those vaguely hostile questions ("How come your so-called 'Patriot Act' is taking away my civil rights?") he'd courteously respond, "Thank you for that one," while gritting his teeth. I've flogged bottoms like that. They're just hatin' on you at that point, but they're not going anywhere.
I drove home, rapt with attention, and my left pec feeling like someone set a hot iron on it.
Coming up Point Pleasant Pike from the river, I saw the most amazing shooting star I've ever seen. I've seen about four shooting stars in my life. And I always feel like I'm sort of shooting star deprived. Like for everybody else on the planet, seeing shooting stars is like seeing the moon. Whenever I'm underneath a starry sky, I'm always looking for one of the shooting stars I'm owed.
Last night did a lot to make up for that deficit.
It was like a badmitten birdie, with a tail on it. Sort of bluish. And it looked like it landed just behind the trees over Myers' pond. Amazing.
When I got home, I sat in my jeep, listening to the debates, trying not to move too much because of the new ink, and went to sleep. I woke up at 11:45, went inside, walked the dog, said goodnight to my father, and went to bed to get a nice eight hours.
* * *
This morning, the plan was that I would get up, do the chores, run my father to the bank, then head to NYC to meet up with Big. Exactly what I needed. But on Wednesday, my father mentioned to me that the ice cream was soft when he got it out of the freezer. I turned up the freezer and the refrigerator to full blast. But it still didn't feel very cold.
Leaving for work yesterday morning, I wrote a note suggesting to my father that he call a repair guy to come out and take a look at it. Maybe it just needed a shot of freon.
When I got home, I found that my father had, in fact, called a repair guy, and the new refrigerator would be here between 10 am and noon today. And sure enough, just as I was getting out of the shower, the guys were here with the new refrigerator.
So far, so good, right?
Well, it seems that the refrigerator stands an inch higher than out old one. So, it wouldn't fit under the built in cabinet above the refrigerator.
As if I don't spend Monday through Friday wrestling with cabinets, I have to do that on the weekend, too?
Yup. Looks like it.
I scoured the place for tools, and set about, aided by my deceased sister's ex-husband's cousin (the Algerian) to saw an inch off the bottom rail of the cabinet. This took forever. And my arm is still sore. The Algerian insisted on going at it with his skill saw (not the right tool for the job, which hacked the bejeezus out of it. Luckily, I was able to even it up pretty nicely with my chisels and a rasp. And the refrigerator fit.
Tragically, by this time it was 1:45 pm. That would be the time I was planning on coming through the Holland Tunnel to meet up with my Sir in NYC. Hell's bells. I called Sir, and he was fine with that, understanding that these things happen. So now I'm off to the Big Apple.
So far, quite the weekend.