by Jeff Marshall
OK, gang, sit back and get comfortable! I gotta tell you about the week I’ve had. It was a doozie!
Let me preface this by saying that God has a wonderful, slightly mischievous sense of humor. As I get older, I appreciate it more and more, even when I’m pulling my slightly-beginning-to-gray hair out or curling up on the couch yelling at the top of my lungs into a slightly-chewed-up-by-the-dogs pillow. Let’s face it – I am slightly losing my slightly-not-as-sharp-as-it-used-to-be mind!
So, I live in the midwest – Decatur, IL to be exact – home of the Dairy Queen blizzard and the place where Matt Damon filmed THE INFORMANT. These are our claims to fame.
We have been going through a horrendous, monstrous, disastrous heatwave the last week or so. I don’t mind heat – I DO mind humidity. You know what I mean? The type of weather where you stand outside for 5 minutes and end up looking like you just rode Splash Mountain. All this being said, this is NATURALLY the time my air conditioner chooses to go kerplunk. So I had to pack up the dogs and head to my parents’ house until I could get it fixed. Thankfully it was all covered under my warranty. It lessened the pain of hearing from the repairman how it was all my fault and basically calling me a doofus.
So, it’s the first night back at home. Back in my own bed. All is right with the world again. I finally get to sleep. And lo and behold, about 2AM, there is an explosion that sounded like the first shots being fired at The Battle of the Little Bighorn! I jump from the bed and run around the house like a nutcase, closely followed by two dogs barking like the cast of Bambi had entered the house. I enter the kitchen to find my refrigerator slightly ajar and dark liquid flowing everywhere. A can of BIG K DIET COLA exploded in the fridge. I’m now up for the rest of the night…
So, it’s the second night back at home. Back in my own bed again. All is right with the world again – again. I finally get to sleep. And lo and behold, about 3AM this time, I heard a noise so loud I thought the Jolly Green Giant had fallen from the Eiffel Tower. I jump from the bed and run around the house like a nutcase, closely followed by two dogs barking like a parade of cats was jumping on the couch. I enter the family room to find a shelf, normally over the piano, scattered on the floor along with the contents it was holding (many of which were glass) in every corner of the room. And, sorry to say, I now have a piano that plays 87 keys. My lower D was sacrificed in the line of duty. A moment of silence please…
In a nutshell, the rest of my week consisted of chasing an escaped Woodstock the Dog through a series of neighborhood rummage sales, my TV going out during a rainstorm seconds before the first semi-final of AMERICA’S GOT TALENT, a second exploding soda can (this time Diet Citrus Drop Extreme), and for the last two days, I’ve smelled the distinct aroma of dog poop in the house but can’t find the source.
What can you do but laugh? Nothing – absolutely nothing. Robert Frost said it best – “If we couldn’t laugh we would all go insane.” However, with all due respect to Mr. Frost, I would love to hear him share the same sentiment after experiencing what I’ve gone through the past week.
And now, with bated breath, I anxiously look forward to see what next week will bring…
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