humor

Filling the Fridge Slowly

For quite a while we had to put towels on the floor in front of the refrigerator because it was leaking.  It was a slow leak and didn’t happen all the time.  I thought the drain pan (what I call the evaporation tray) that sits on the floor under the fridge was cracked, and so during every defrosting the water escaped.  But the fridge kept tricking me.  Sometimes I thought it was somehow the ice crusher, so I stopped using that.  But the next day it leaked.  Then I was certain it was the ice maker, so I shut it off.  It still leaked.  I kept thinking I cou

News Yoga

 Lately and for months now I’ve noticed a change in the news.  It used to be, female anchors often sat on couches with shortish skirts, and by necessity they kept their legs crossed.  When they were required to stand in the middle of a set, they stood cross-legged because the floor was highly polished.  I first started noticing this on HLN, when often a guest would sit next to the anchor and mirror mimic her knotty posture.  It was like they were attempting some sort of couch yoga.

23 Towels

Yesterday morning I came out of my office for a second cup of coffee and saw a

miniature tsunami flowing out of the kitchen into the dining room. I had a load in the

washing machine, so I figured it must be coming from there.

Went Stupid

It used to be, for ten years, I didn’t know what I was going to do each day at work.  Prior to that, I was in the military and nearly every day was the same.  Only when we trained for medical combat were the days full of the unexpected.  After I became a civilian the workdays continued to blend together in mind-numbing repetition.  Every time I watch an episode of How It’s Made, in which a shift worker is

Rats and Mushrooms 2

   Because of recent rain, I wasn’t able to mow for nine days.  Oh, I could have gone out early, but I’m still sipping coffee at eleven every morning and just deciding what to eat for my late breakfast.  When finally I went out back on a rainless afternoon (the only time I go in the backyard is when I mow and such) I was surprised to see there were no mushrooms.  My daughter had the same problem, and she was told by someone at Lowes that the only way to get rid of them is to keep plucking.  Apparently that’s true.  I’d plucked nineteen of them in all, and

Tomorrow Things

   When I was a kid, 1920 was ancient history, as was the decade of my parents’ birth, the 30s.  Likewise for the 40s and 50s.  Films of those times fascinated me, probably much like early explorers viewed the artwork on the walls of Egyptian temples and tombs.  Now in 2020, I wonder if my grandkids, who will no doubt live to see the 22nd century, might view my time just as olden.  Probably, but becaus

Favorite Snack

   The only scene I like in the movie “Baby: Secret of the Lost Legend” (1985) is when George Loomis, played by William Katt, exchanges food with the leader of a local tribe, and after one bite of the granola bar Loomis gives him, the leader spits it out from the side of his mouth.  I’m sure his character thought it was too sweet.  Lately, I know the feeling.

Projects and Theory

   Sure, sure, I installed the new sink and faucet in the kitchen, and added three full shelves in one of the shrunks in the garage and replaced the four short wire shelves in the hall closet with deep lengths of plywood (both for my wife’s canning supplies and storage of pickles and such), and made a new attic door (really just a cover) so I could get rid of that crumbly rectangle of flocked sheet rock—I used two sections of three-quarter inch lightweight pressed, with hinges so I can fold it, and handles so I can hold it.  Also this last week I covered

Items of the Fifth Element

   Item: I just discovered I have creepey neck skin.  (I prefer to spell it creepey.)  I was giving myself a headcut (the proper term for both scalp and face) and was trimming the two-months’ worth of longish hairs on my neck when suddenly my Wahl barber shears nicked me right above my Adam’s apple.  Thinking it was my fault, that I’d pushed too hard, I continued and again felt the sting of nipped skin.  Now absolutely sure it was Wahl’s fault—I needed to buy a new set of sheers—I reangled the cutting edge and very, very carefully drew blood a third time.