Spring Has Sprung

No, sillies! I'm not talking about the weather. It's colder than Val's heart on a cruise to Antarctica in July! Get it? Because the seasons are reversed in the southern hemisphere, by cracky! Sometimes I simply outdo myself spreading scientific knowledge throughout the blogosphere. Sure, go on, act like you already got my reference. It's okay. I'll emphasize it to my fellow Backroadsians who are rocking in front of the cast-iron stove down at Drucker's General Store, whittling corncob pipes, taking a break every now and then to play some checkers, or dip a giant pickle out of the barrel.

Spring has sprung! That dastardly giant spring that used to raise the garage door every time T-Hoe's clicker said, "Open Sesame." Now it only raises the garage door one panel. That is not quite enough to let T-Hoe through. A cat, perhaps. But not the fat tuxedo cat doing very little to escape the advances of the beagle.

I thought I had hit the clicker twice. That makes the door stop, and go back down. But this one stuck. When I clicked again, it closed. Another click, it went up one panel. I must have sat there on my heated seat trying that about 20 times. Hope springs eternal, you know. But my spring was sprung.

I saw the extent of the carnage when I walked all the way around the garage to go in through the people door, and saw that giant spring in two parts. As you might recall, we just replaced that spring on Hick's garage door this summer. So now, during the cold snap, my spring snapped. When Hick got home, he wrestled with that wily coil, and managed to open my garage door all the way, manually. Now we have to leave it open. Which kind of defeats the purpose of having a garage, turning it into a drafty carport. The onus falls on Val to drag the twisty traitor to the garage door store to seek a fabricated replacement.

Our infrastructure is failing fast.