I walked away from the computer for a minute, yesterday, to get a few chores and errands done. I never came back. It was my day off, the only one I get during the week. The other one, Sunday, is still being entirely swallowed by the NFL because, you know, #playoffs. I don’t need the Rams to have some fun.
But the mission was a simple one: drop off the Rogue, pick up the rental, grab my new box of contact lenses, and return to my reading/writing roost ‘til mid-afternoon.
That did not happen.
I’ll tell you more about what happened instead in a minute, but first you need to know about the Rogue.
During Memorial Day weekend, 2017, I went automobile shopping for the first time in 13 years. I did this because my 1998 Dodge Durango – which I loved, and had owned since 2003 – decided enough was enough with the whole “cooling the interior” part of its existence, and quit that altogether. Since Redding, where I live, is famously known to get above 100 degrees all summer, and often to 115, I decided this arrangement was not conducive with my near-term happiness. So, I shopped.
After test driving several vehicles, and laughing at the ridiculousness of a “Star Wars Edition” Nissan Rogue One, I finally settled on buying a 2017 Star Wars Edition Nissan Rogue One. In black. I bought it for the gas mileage and the features and the handleability. I also embraced the notoriety of owning a Star Wars car because I am an unapologetic geek.
The Durango, which served me faithfully, had exceeded all practical usefulness to the car dealer so I more-or-less gave it to a co-worker because his ex-wife’s family needed a car. I’m a giver like that. I threw in my old ping pong table because I knew he’d get use out of it, too, and it freed up garage space. I’m OCD about very little, but I am terribly OCD about garage space.
More on that in a minute.
So I waved goodbye to my old beater vehicle, which had never been harmed and was, despite its age and functional problems, still very clean. And I drove my shiny new galactic cruiser for exactly 69 days before a young miss turned a corner too sharply and hit the Rogue head on.
Nobody was hurt, but I lost the use of my starship for 32 of the first 101 days. Nearly $12,000 in insurance repairs. Bless the Imperial crews. Long live the empire.
Less than 3 months later, on December 30th, an even younger miss opened her door too quickly and damaged my rear hull. This insurance repair will only take a week, and cost less than $2000, but you understand the implications. The rebel forces are strong in Redding. They have recruited young misses. I am under attack.
Quite simply, the force is not with me.
But replacing that vehicle with another, temporarily, took me under an hour. The lenses, 15 minutes. Sending out fantasy football winnings, filling out a new patient form to see a doctor (one of my resolutions, as you’ll recall!), stocking up on the wife’s beer, and entering my appliance manufacturer bonus “spiffs” for the month of December all ate up, maybe, another two hours.
It was time to write, and read, and fill my brain with glory!
Except, I’m stiff. I need to get up for a minute, do some physical stuff on my to-do list. Take down the Xmas decs, for one. Move some stuff into the attic. Yes, just for a bit.
A half day later I had rearranged the entire garage. Remember my OCD?
To do so required also rearranging my shed to create “junk space,” my attic into a sensible arrangement, and some minor shuffling of closets inside the house. I was on the move!
This morning, I’m sore AF, as the kids say today. I’m also behind on my reading (by about 40 pages) and my writing (by however many words are in this today), and I am without my Rogue. But I have the most perfectly arranged garage known to man. At least, until I decide that the boxes of unused kitchenware would look better on the upper pantry shelf.
I wish I hadn’t said that.
So, if you find me racing to catch up on your entries from 2 days ago, and you find me saying nothing of particular value on my own blog for several days, forgive me. I got physical. I got manly.
I promise it won’t happen again. 😏