There are no words. Even as I try to conjugate them, they will be nothing more than simple words. Words. WORDS!
This rather short antidote is best understood when preface by earlier events. If you are a regular follower of this fine blog, then certainly you read about The Mouse. You see, I wrote that harrowing tale all too soon. A great many events followed it. To my disdain, the car which that clever little rodent chose to inhabit broke down only days after his arrival. It just stopped. Well as you can imagine, upon hearing this news, my lovely, caring, compassionate and all knowing wife made her expert opinion be known. That little vermin must have been the reason for the car's sudden reluctance to start. I reassured her this was probably not the case. For a week the car was in the shop. The verdict? A blown fuse going into the starter, probably blown by some sort of short in the wiring. How ever did this short come about? The mechanic suggests that a mouse very well could have caused such damage.
Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it. DAMN IT! No matter what I say or what I do, damn it, she is ALWAYS right!
Now that's out of my system. Friday was just an unimaginably awful day. The guy that coined the saying "Life sucks and then you die." must have had a whole bunch of these kind of days. Friday was suppose to be the first day of a few days of vacation for me. Oh, don't worry, I didn't get called into work. OH, no, I would have gladly went back to work to prevent the following events! So the day started off fine and well. I drove the wife to pick up her car before work, because it was finally done. Great news! Of course when she hears the probable cause of the break down, she never hesitates to let me know how right she was. Maybe she should of been a mechanic! If she, with zero knowledge of cars, was able to solve this break down; perhaps she could be creating the first super clean, super fast car of the future that will save the planet from global warming and in turn Al Gore! Alas we shall never know.
So she drives off to work. I go home to revel in the glory of a day off. Later, I receive a text from the wife letting me know that the car smells of dead mouse. This news brightens the day further. At least it's dead; now I just have to solve that problem. Soon I sit down for some relaxing video games; peace. It's right then, that she calls me. We have just pissing-down-a-hair-clogged-drain bad cell phone service at our house. I cannot believe I was able to hear what she said. "Car won't start. I'm at Krodel park." I'm not even mad. For a moment I just stand there, bent in some funny angle striving for the optimum cell service of one bar. "Sure." That's the best I can manage before leaving to pick her up.
Now would be a good time to progress back in time two hours to lunch. I took my wife to Burger King. We made a short stop at Auto Zone to get some smell killing items to help cleanse the rank of rotting mouse carcass. My wife make some incendiary remark about being from Gallia county Ohio as I exit the car. I didn't really hear it and paid it no mind. When I return to the car, she asks me why I have a huge hole in the arm pit of my shirt. I have no idea. Her off hand comment from before was about how I am properly dressed for Gallia county life, with the hole and all. She failed to stop me from entering the store looking like a complete idiot. Thanks, I love you too.
So back to the broken down mouse coffin. I dropped her off at work and proceed back to the repair shop to spread the tidings and good news. As I park, and set out of the car, the unthinkable happens. The hole in the arm pit of my shirt grabs hold of the door. Before I can stop myself, I am pushing the door shut. As the door rips through the air and my very soul, it rips a LARGE piece of my shirt. The gash reaches across my chest so that my sexy hair covered abs are gleaming in the sun light. Sure. So I walk into the repair shop and notify them of the trouble. They all look at my shirt, but no one asks me about it and I never mention it. It's for the best, I think.
I have no spare shirts. I also don't want to go home and get one. I have to pick the wife up from work. Lucky for me, the repair shop is right next to a dollar general. Now, with a clear mind, free of the stress of the day, I would never walk into this store to buy a $2 shirt dress like that. On this day I would. It was helpful that the credit card reader was working horrendously slow. I spent twenty minutes in line and paying with my gashed shirt on. It was great, especially when I saw a customer I see at work all the time. You know the customer who never sees me in anything but a shirt and tie. She pretended not to know me; I know she recognized me. Back in the car, the shirt is exchanged and that crisis is over. What should I do now.
A hair cut! Yes, I have time to kill before picking up the wife; I'll go to Wal Mart and get a hair cut. Nothing about this could go wrong. Wal Mart is an American institution. It is at the very heart of our being. Wal Mart is the best. End sarcasm. One more thing, the shirt I bought is a kind of athletic polo shirt. Kind of like a golf shirt, but much, much, much, MUCH cheaper in cost and design. As the Wal Mart is over run with the best society has to offer, I am forced to park in the very back of the lot. What next? People, I can't make this shit up. The clouds opened up as I trekked across the parking lot and the rain fell. The rain poured. The sky took a big old piss on me. And what of my new cheap shirt? It became a new, wet and very see through cheap shirt. Everyone knows what happens to nipples in water, so I won't waste your time on that. Drenched, I drag myself into Wal Mart and find the hair place. After a short wait, I am seated and getting a trim. As soon as I sit, I let out a loud sigh. The hair cut lady just gives me a once over look. Maybe it was the outwardly perturbed look on my face, you all know the face I'm talking about. Maybe it was my nipples, glaring her in the face through my shirt. One of those things prompted her to ask...
"Rough day?" I smiled to myself.
"Yeah." There are no words.