Fat Chance

I drove our Subaru Outback to Little Rock yesterday. I drove a Subaru Ascent home. The service department told me the work on my car (65K maintenance, exhaust system recall notice work, and four new tires) would take all day, so they gave me a loaner. I told them I could not return it until Thursday. No problem, they said. They called yesterday afternoon around 3 to say my car was ready. I was tempted to return and trade the loaner for my car. But I pressure-washed the deck, instead.

The Ascent has a much smoother ride than the Outback. But, with new tires designed for both longer tread life and smoother ride than the tire being replaced, the Outback may have a smoother ride, as well. We shall see.

I have received my “stimulus” money. I could have done what Pastor Tony Spell asked and given it to the church. But I didn’t. I spent it on new tires and an oil change. Spell’s greed is stunning in its depth and hubris. I was pleased to learn he subsequently was arrested, though not in connection with his incredible request. May he rot in a cell for several weeks before being released to his “flock” for restorative justice.

Pressure-washing the deck yesterday was a pointless exercise. By the time I had cleaned a portion of one section, scouring yellow pollen to reveal the grey paint below, nearby trees had shed more of the same. I discovered, during my work, that the paint around areas of black mold was coming up. When the pollen season is over, I’ll have to power-wash again (after spraying the entire deck with cleanser), then will have to brush bleach on the molded areas. Then, after another quick rinse with the pressure-washer and a few days of dry weather, I will put another coat of paint on the entire deck, painting between boards, this time, as the final steps to a finished job. In hindsight, I should have invested the money in having the deck’s superstructure reinforced so I could re-deck the entire area with composite decking. I’m paying the price for being a frugal (make that absurdly stingy) bastard.

It would be nice to be able to go online and order all the materials and equipment I will need to do maintenance work and rehabbing around the house. I suppose I could, but not as conveniently as ordering groceries. Part of the difficulty of ordering building materials online is that I don’t know exactly what I need without looking, close-up, and asking a lot of questions. That’s one of the hardest parts; asking questions that reveal the depth of my ignorance. It shouldn’t bother me, but it does; I think it’s symptomatic of the remnants of that damn testosterone poisoning.

While I’m ordering online, I should go ahead and order a treadmill. I’ve decided on which one I want, I think: the ProForm SMART Pro 2000. If not that one, then the Sole F80. Or the ProForm 965 CT. The problem with all of them, though, is that they are sold out where I’ve looked.  I think I’ll wait until I learn what the results of my lab work from yesterday and the CT scan I should have done next week. The APRN yesterday ordered the CT scan to determine the cause of blood in my urine. Ordering a treadmill can wait.

It occurs to me that I might be utterly confused re-reading this post (and several others) many years from now (assuming I am present and capable of reading at that point). This post and many others assume the reader has knowledge of matters no contained in what I am writing here. In the context of several other posts, this one might make sense. Absent that context, though, it might seem to be the ramblings of an incoherent fool. And maybe it is. Time will tell, won’t it?

I will stop, for the moment, trying to make sense. Another cup of coffee is required. I arose late this morning, after spending too much awake-time in bed. My body is stiff and out of sorts. I need to flex and bend and repair the damage done by physical inactivity, gluttony, and bodily mistreatment that has lasted, at last count, 66 years. Repair the damage. Fat chance.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes "Intimacy is never wrong. It can be awkward, it can be unsettling, it can feel dangerous, it can seem out of place, but it’s never wrong."― John Swinburn
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