My somewhat odd (surprise!) observation this morning is that it is the frustrations in life, large and small, that keep it from getting stale. I am not talking about catastrophe or life threatening things, just the petty annoyances that in the grand scheme of things mean nothing but yet at the time can illicit a word or two that might cause a sailor, or rap star, a bit of embarrassment.
Case in point, the suicidal rebellion of our appliances and modern creature comfort items. A few weeks ago the dryer (an appliance that is less than ten years old)began emitting an ear piercing screech when it started.
So, I watched a video on replacing a dryer belt, and dismantled the entire dryer. I cleaned everything, found nothing that could be oiled, and put it back together.
Amazingly it functioned, but the screech was unchanged. A few days ago the screech took on a new pitch that left little doubt that death was imminent.
On Monday, the evaporative cooler began making odd noises. So, I climbed up on the roof, checked things out, oiled the bearings on the squirrel cage, and the odd noise became a faint hint of things to come.
Last evening it began making some of the most fascinating and yet irritating noises, sort of a cross between a cat scratching at a window glass and tone deaf novice competing at a blue grass festival with a poorly tuned fiddle. I climbed back up on the roof and after evaluating the source of the noise, determined that the motor is on its last leg. I wonder if it will hold together for another week as there isn’t a spare moment available in the next few days.
The final edit and photo substitution for the Route 66 travel guide is due by Monday morning. Friday night we meet with Sam Murray to discuss development of a 2014 Route 66 tour. To stay on track with the atlas, I will need to complete the first draft of the Arizona segment this weekend. If it doesn’t rain for a day or two, there is a pressing need to address the grass in the backyard that is now deep enough to hide an elephant.
Now, several years ago we severed the umbilical chord and abandoned regular television viewing. By eliminating the satellite connection we saved money and by eliminating television in general we increased productivity, and saved our minds from a slow, mind numbing death.
Still, once a week we find a movie to watch, and occasion we will spring for a series on DVD paying for it with money saved from kissing the satellite goodbye. As of late we have been watching the unfolding saga of Nucky Thompson on Boardwalk Empire.
Last evening I worked on the edits until abut nine, rounded up a snack plate, and settled down with my dearest friend and our ancient cat for another voyeuristic look into the violent world of the prohibition gangster, and the peeks into the bedroom that aren’t really needed to enhance the story but yet seem to be ingrained in every aspect of modern entertainment. Five minutes into the program the television went black with a thin red line at center screen. Then it gave off a distinct whiff of smoldering electronics. That signaled bed time.
All of this has me eagerly anticipating a new day. I wonder what surprises are in store?
