|
|
electricity has been playing some unkind tricks on me, in the past few days. perhaps that's why i was off my game for most of the day... maybe my "positrons" had turned into "negatrons", or something. those are the days when i know it's very wrong to play with fire. and, the smell! i guess it was Friday... i was giving moms some assistance with a balky air conditioner. said it wouldn''t turn on, and would i take a look at it. she'd strung an extension cord across the kitchen, which i used to plug the unit in to test. lo,and behold: lightning! yep, i guess the old, waxy-covered window unit gasped its last, because sparks and flames shot from the connection, inches from my left hand. panties unsoilied, i managed to grasp the plug from behind me and pull, while the plastic burned with acrid black smoke. i'll bet i did a passable Texas-Two-step in place while the festivities were underway. last night, just as the municipal fireworks were beginning (two days before the actual event... go,idiots!), the unexpected arrival of the LittleGeneral, SlickWillie and the Contessa had us pile into the IndyBus to the end of the drive to watch the detonations. all ten minutes of them. Yoko had brought along her flashlight, some old red plastic thing her dad had given her, years ago. somehow, the new batteries had quit, and it was naturally handed to me to fix... if "fixing" means removing the batteries, wiping off the contacts and putting it back together the same way it came apart. still, no light, so i stuck it in my pocket. yeah, i knew where that'd be. IN MY POCKET! drawing my hand in meant instant burnt fingers, as the end cap with the spring somehow decided to immolate, sending melting polyethylene coating the inside of my pants. hottest they've been since... well, not so terribly long ago. just not that way. maybe it's plastic that's trying to tell me something. i got over the dilemma quickly enough. giggling like an idiot when SlickWille almost backed into my asshole neighbor (on purpose), making his Highness's butthole tighten, and involuntarily made him hit his emergency flashers. good for you, Wanker. martinis on the front porch didn't hurt,either. it may have been a mild shock-treatment that i needed. i fixed brakes and prepped the old metal porch glider for paint, today. and had some pretty abstract chuckles. like, passing by the strip mall, and seeing the sign reading "DoubleD's Ice Cream". which made me remark about how cold that bitch must be. stratching my head over the hundreds of mosquito repellent flavors... regular, deep woods, sportsman: and, if they don't work, they could also be called cool ranch, buttermilk, and thousand island. goofy, sure... but, don't blame me. blame electricity. |
|
|
