Remember yesterday, when I had three tales to relate, as alluded to with this catchy little creation?
How do I write thee? Let me count the ways.
I write thee for the depth and bread and hype
My prose can reach, when I begin to type
About events in ordinary days.
With the BREAD out in the open, it is now time to reveal the DEPTH of Val Thevictorian's very eventful day.
Friday, I went to town and picked up some empty boxes at Save-A-Lot. They let you do that, you know. Take them for free. Don't even charge you for empty boxes that might have held Circus Os cereal, or cases that contained twelve-packs of Mountain Holler soda. They're free for the taking. Whether you snatch them up front from the hands of grocery-buyers who need to carry home their foodstuffs, or sneak them off the shelves by taking out the last 3 or 4 items inside and stacking them neatly on another box of the same item. It's one of the perks of Save A Lot patronage.
Once home, I called The Pony from the garage. I had one box of groceries, filled with a jar of dill pickles, a bag of onions, a bunch of bananas, and a bag of red grapes. "You can leave the empty boxes back there. We'll take them out to Grandma's house next week when we clean out more stuff with Aunt Sis. Can you help with the mail? And my purse? I'll carry my big soda."
The Pony grabbed the box and came around front for the rest. He's a reliable beast of burden. I closed up the garage and followed him in, after a short reunion on the side porch with my sweet, sweet Juno.
This morning, I was in a rush. I had to get a letter in the mail to Genius by 11:15. Let the record show that as of 10:15, I was just starting the letter. Still plenty of time. It takes 10 minutes to get to the dead-mouse-smelling post office. I had already addressed the envelope and stuck on two stamps. Scratch-off tickets are heavy! I still needed to slide them in, along with his money for Chinese food that his grandma always sent each week. A witty correspondence was forming when I got a text from Genius about using his discount for the Garmin gadgets Hick and The Pony were going to get before his internship discount ends in two weeks.
That monkey wrench set me back. I told Genius to pick them out, because the bumps on this end of the log were not making any effort. He wanted a check tucked in with his letter. But he hadn't found the GPSs yet, and didn't know the cost with his 45% discount. Meanwhile, I had to respond to his every text, finish the letter, write out a check, find the $6 and tickets, change into town-presentable clothes, and hit the road.
I had about 5 minutes to spare when I entered the garage. I pushed the doorbell unit thingy that raises my garage door. I heard it start up. I opened T-Hoe's door to set my purse inside.
AND HEARD A HUGE GRINDING NOISE OF METAL ON METAL!
I turned to see the garage door come to a stop two-thirds open. The reason for the stoppage was that it was hooked on T-Hoe's hatch door. Which was open! I never leave T-Hoe's hatch door open! In fact, I tell The Pony that he is not allowed to open it when the garage door is closed. He disagrees, declaring that he has opened it plenty of times inside the closed garage, and it fits just fine. Perhaps. When that door is completely down. But it curves, you know, to slide up inside the garage roof area.
Of course the seconds were ticking to get Genius's letter in the mail. It usually takes the USPS until Wednesday evening to get it to Olathe. And Genius is leaving work early next week for his Missouri Boys State Staff camp-out weekend. What to do?
I jumped into T-Hoe, started him up, and pulled forward a foot. I hit the button to close his hatch. Nothing. I pushed it again. Nothing. CRAP! Now I broke T-Hoe! I tried once more. IT WORKED. Then I pushed the garage door closer clipped to the shotgun-seat visor. THE DOOR CLOSED! Then it opened. Whew!
Hick has not yet been informed. For all I know, he was nosing around among the boxes for treasures he thought we brought home. You know I would never blame Hick without cause! But when I told The Pony of the Unfortunate Garage Door/Hatch Faux Pas, he frowned. "I'm sure you closed it. You always close it when I get things out of the back. You sit there until I'm out of the way, and you close it, and you close the garage door. And you make me get everything before you get out, because you won't let me open it when the garage door is down."
I am growing careless in my dotage, or Hick is a sneak-would-be-thief, or something is afoot in the garage. A couple of mornings we found the door open when we had left it closed. But never T-Hoe's hatch.
You may see Mystery Inc. and the Mystery Machine in my driveway in the days ahead. Don't be alarmed.