A Day from Heck

Yesterday was a day from Heck.

Definitely not a Day from Hell, thank goodness. A Day from Hell is when somebody dies or a major body part falls off. Or at least a concatenation of lesser but still substantial evils.

I slept fitfully after getting back the night before. I started getting wakeful and worried after only a few hours because I hadn’t gotten the check back for a contract I had sent off before leaving town (from a place that’s usually very prompt), and because my cats didn’t seem to be eating. The latter was especially troubling, since as most of you who know me in person are aware I almost lost both of them to liver failure brought on by not eating – for only a couple of days! – two years ago.

I was finally roused from my pitiful attempts to sleep by a rap at the door. Proved to be FedEx Guy, bringing – the missing check! Worry One resolved.

(Worry, of course, is one of the few emotions that simply has no benefit at all. Doesn’t always stop me, though.)

So, being up anyway, I pulled myself more or less together, made myself my customary morning cocoa, which I hadn’t gotten to do in STL. To avoid paying an extra day for Emma Dog I had to collect her by noon. It’s usually a twenty minute trip to the kennel. I left about ten after eleven, figuring I had plenty of time.

Just driving down the block the car handled strangely and I heard a distinct flap-flappy sound. Uh-oh. I’d had to repair the left rear tire right before leaving, and the right front’s been running a slow leak. Indeed it was a touch low, but the real problem was the right rear one was dead flat.

No worries. Plenty of time. Knowing I’d likely be spending some time, not to mention exertion, there, I’d pulled into the shade of a tree over on 3rd Street, next block over from where I live. I hooked up my new compressor. The flat took the air fine and filled as rapidly as these things go. No biggie. I sat on the curb and read a David Drake Leary/Mundy book on my Palm. I love the Leary/Mundy books.

Got full. Took off up Second Street. And just as I was approaching Paseo del Norte (which I usually think of as Paseo del Snort, mostly because that’s how I am) the car starts handling funny and I hear disconcerting noises. Obviously we’ve lost air in our problem tire.

The worst of it was there wasn’t a good place to pull off. Second Street is not a place to do that, especially if one is fond of life and having all four limbs in their customary alignments. I had to go through the underpass and up a block or two to find a side street I could dive down. Fortunately there was a wide spot to the right with even a touch of shade. Packed dirt, but that proved enough for the scissors-style jacks I’ve got – much better than those awful pillar things we used to have, that just looked for an excuse to cut loose and come flying out with leg-busting force.

So we did the thing. I was pleased I maintained my positive attitude. OK, situation. Solution’s clear; I dealt with it. I did call the kennel and let them know I’d be late.

Got there with no further incident on my spare. Eleven after. They were kind enough not to gig me an extra day – which would have been a tad crass even without my calling in with a legitimate emergency. But Corrales Kennels always treats us right, just the way they took pity on me and let me drop off Emma at 7:20 when they don’t open until 8 on my way outbound, so I could get home in time to meet my friend giving me a ride to the airport. They’re a bit of a drive, even from the North Valley, but inexpensive. Also Emma seems pleased enough to go there; if they didn’t treat her right she’d be recalcitrant at best. She’s a good dog – surprisingly so, sometimes – but a young lady with strong opinions, withal.

The next thing was I’d cleverly forgotten her harness and leash. The kennel guy brought her out to the car on their leash. My bigger concern was belting her in, for which I usually use the harness – works great for that, although my main reason for using the harness is that I don’t like putting pressure on a creature’s throat. The shoulder harness went around her, and she was amenable, but it slipped off shortly. I stayed ready to grab her collar if need arose. Fortunately it didn’t.

We went home the leisurely way, down Rio Grande Boulevard – RGB, as it’s mostly going to be known hereinafter. A very pretty country drive. When we got home I thought about grabbing Emma’s collar to take her in. Then I thought, no, she’s a great dog. We’ll just trust her. And it turned out I’d reckoned without her eagerness to be home: she trotted right up to the door and waited, almost vibrating to be let in.

We got her ensconced. The cats had seemed worried about her absence. They like her, and perhaps more important they’re used to her. Cats hate change. So we had everybody together safe and everyone was happy.

I had wanted to take Emma for a walk on the way home, hoping it wouldn’t be too hot (and humid, it being that time of year.) The double flat tire thing decoupled that even before I found I’d spaced bringing the leash. Instead I caught up my notebook PC, stuffed it in the pack with my trusty in-town travel teddy bear, and headed off.

First I deposited my check (yay!). Then I went to VI. Had my usual breakfast of huevos rancheros, which they do surprisingly well (Important Safety Tip: Village Inn often offers huevos rancheros in restaurants outside New Mexico. Order them at your own risk. Or better: just don’t. You have been warned: it likely won’t be pretty.) I got some good writing done on Annja’s latest caper.

After that it was Tire Time. Headed to Costco, where I’m a member. They had kindly fixed my flat free last time; this time I had two. Then I went into the store and just kind of wandered around looking at stuff. Who knew they had a poster-sized coffee-table book apparently full of lurid photos of crashes or whatnot entitled They Walked Away? My first thought of course was of one called They Didn’t, which would have on its cover Jayne Mansfield’s severed head or some such. Of course then Costco wouldn’t carry it. And I wouldn’t buy it. I like my gore fictive. And truth to tell, it’s not a major draw for me then, either.

Before long I got a call. Turned out the flat was a write-off: apparently I’d driven on it too far. Oh well. More to the point they had no replacement in stock. The slow leak in front they were fixing.

They were willing to order me a tire. Fine, but I wanted this done. Once more they didn’t charge me. I went off to Discount Tires. By this time it was after 4, rush-crush had begun on Montgomery, and just getting in proved quite a challenge.

But they set me up. Didn’t take terribly long, even though they apologized for the wait.

Then I went off to the grocery store, then – finally! – home.

What I was most pleased with was my attitude. I never let any of this bother me – as I am prone to do. I kept cheerful, simply took things as they arose, and dealt with them. Didn’t make a big deal of them, nor put them off – as I am also prone to do. Just smiled along and did it.

A friend mentioned in an email today that naturally I’d be tired after my trip, thereby accounting for what she termed a “lovely Murphy-day.” The thing is, yesterday I didn’t have time to be tired. It’s today that I’ve been dragging like a wet sandbag. I started to fret about that too until the light finally came on as to why it should be.

Anyway, a phrase occurred to me, somewhere in the midst of yesterday’s hassles, which is something I’ll strive to live by more and more – and recommend to your consideration:

It’s all an adventure!

Keep adventuring!

- Vic

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Update, 8/10/07 – just figgered out this here new-fangled WordPress thang has a button right on the toolbar I can use to split me some messages.  I’ve only been using it, what, four months now?

Mr. Techno Wizard, that’s me. Yup.

Anyway, I split this so it’s not just a big glop on my blog page. Which I suppose you’ve noticed by now, if you’re reading this…

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