I couldn’t even make it 24 hours and here I am encapsulating yet another horrific episode. I sit here in my computer room typing away while looking at my right ankle which is slowly turning the most lovely shade of dark purple. I’m having a hard time writing about this accident because I keep getting distracted.
You see, I’m looking out the front window and the beautiful dusting of snow we received last night.
As some of the people on this mailing list are from Florida, I shall briefly explain. Snow is a white powdery substance that is the result of a chemical process familiarly called sublimination which takes a gaseous substance and makes it solid without first going through the liquid state of matter. Should water vapor not subliminate and become liquid and then freeze, you would get hail instead. Hail you understand because every two weeks you have another hurricane that brings some along, busting up all the nice 2×8’s you used to board up your house.
Too soon?
Anyway, this white powdery substance is apparently the most dangerous chemical in the entire world. You know how I know that? Because I see my mailbox from here…and the flag is still up.
Yeah. The post office decided it was a little too snowy, so no postal service for me today. I recognize that the walk was not yet shoveled (by the way, thanks Dad! You retired guys are great!) at the time the postal worker came to the house, but I seem to remember some motto. You know about sleet and snow and still getting to your appointed rounds. Did friggin’ OSHA outlaw good customer service?
I know it’s not a good idea to criticize the postal service. What with those fellas packing heat and equally poor attitudes and all, but this has to be said: “When did this country start getting run by so many babies?” Whenever it snows around here, we make it out like a real disaster is on its way. That’s a travesty when a real disaster, like this year’s Florida hurricanes, the tragic Asian tsunami, and the Milwaukee Brewer starting lineup all happened this year.
This morning at work about seven people called in they were going to be late. Why? Oh, the snow. No, here’s the real reason, sport. Because you are a moron that doesn’t know when to leave your house and make it to work on time. Get your butt out of bed and hit the accelerator. The plows were out early today so unless you yourself got plowed last night, there should be no reason to be late.
Best of all, according to Weather.com, we had only a little over two inches of snow. Two inches? C’mon, people. I think the mail should be able to be delivered under those conditions. In the 1800’s, they mounted ponies to deliver mail through savage, untamed frontiers–and now a dusting of snow keeps the mail in the post office? What–is the stuff acidic?
For those of you in Florida, no. No, it isn’t.
This all has nothing to do with the ankle. It’s getting darker by the way. Should it be pulsating?
I didn’t even notice the ankle-shiner until I had removed my socks to take my shower. Usually when I get undressed, I would rather leave the room…no reason to witness that circus act…but anyway there it was.
It happened this morning. I went out to the garage, and the door wouldn’t open. I have an automatic garage door opener thingy. I pressed the button and it did exactly nothing. When it made a clicking noise. And then it looked at me. In disapproval. Obviously, in cahoots with the squirrels. (Reference for the long time readers.)
So I pulled on that rip cord that dangles from it and manually opened the door. Hopped in the car, pulled it into the alley and then looked for the handle you generally see on garage doors to close it. But I have a cheap garage door which has obviously always had the opener on it, so no handle exists. So I palmed the face of the door and started it down.
First my right ring finger (which in my case could be named the never-to-have-a-ring finger) got caught in one of the hinges. That smarted. I jerked up, the door moved a little upwards and then accelerated down.
Onto my foot. Well, ankle really.
Why do they say something really smarts, when it is generally the result of something really dumb?
Anyway, that’s how I got black and blue. But mostly blue. Depressed. Because my mail won’t be delivered.
Pony Express. We were better off with the Pony Express.
All this technology just gets in the way. You know, like Garage Door Openers.
And blogs.