Moogie's Interesting Day

After last night's rather forceful hail storm, today has been one of "interesting times," as in the old Chinese proverb and curse.

Let's recap, shall we?

I stepped in dog poop on the way to a doctor's appointment.  With both shoes.

Younger Daughter picked up the "Plan B" bridesmaids' dresses today (chosen after it came to pass that "Plan A" didn't come in navy blue after all) and says they're hideous and noisy.  Plus, the shoes agreed upon after quite a lengthy debate and much discussion have been discontinued.

Pepper is sick with a chest cold on the day before I leave town for bridal frivolity.

The grocery was out of rotisserie chicken, with which I was going to pamper myself after an "interesting" day.  I deserve pampering, so we're going with by-golly fried chicken!  (Suffer with the image of fried chicken, Michelle Obama.  Suffer.)

And, it seems that, at five feet in height, and not-obese-poundage in weight, and at 56 genteel years of age, Moogie can still change a flat tire.  In drizzling rain.  With freshly washed and styled hair.  In under an hour.

I despise so very much the interminable wait for automotive assistance in the Crescent City that, after checking twice that the tire was in fact too flat to make it to Firestone (because I was in denial after the first time), I decided to walk the two blocks home to change clothes, and to change the sucker myself.

First I re-scheduled the doctor's appointment.  Those people charge you anyway if you decide just not to show up! 

Then, I pulled out the owner's manual to brush up on where all the tire-changing equipment is located (and to figure out how to use that fancy twist-instead-of-pump-to-operate jack -- this alone should give you an idea of how long it's been since Moogie changed a flat)  (and where, exactly, to place the fancy jack) (and how to lower the spare from its snug perch beneath the MoogieMobile).  Those fine folks at Toyota wrote a driver's manual that is actually helpful! 

I miscalculated how very heavy a full-size spare for an SUV crossover is, but somehow, and with much perspiring and colorful language and laughing aloud all by myself at the absurdity of the whole situation, I managed to wrestle the flat tire off, and the spare onto, that wretched rear passenger-side wheel.

Of course, all along I was hoping against hope that some kind gentleman would happen upon me and come to my rescue.  My Mama didn't raise no foolish children, after all.  And, about 35 minutes into the process, just as I had gotten that "interesting" jack to lift the car to an adequate height, and was preparing to pull the contemptible flat off, from the corner of my eye I spied a white pick-up truck slowing, and coming to a stop across the street!  I heard the door shut, and sensed the motion of someone heading in my direction!

Not wanting to appear too eager, I didn't immediately turn on the damsel-in-distress charm for my Good Samaritan.  And, it's a good thing I didn't bother wasting any of that charm because the man who headed in my direction was not a Good Samaritan -- he was the Samaritan's evil twin.  Or Satan incarnate.

First, he asked me in passing, "How ya doin'?"  As I replied, "I've been better," he continued to stroll right into the nicely manicured yard beside which the hobbled MoogieMobile was parked. Then he sashayed past me again to open the gate.  All in all, that scrawny landscape guy passed me, as I strained and sweated, FIVE times.  Then he crossed the street, got in his truck, and took off, without so much as a fare thee well.

After more colorful language, and considerably more perspiring (I was well beyond "glowing" by this time), I succeeded in getting the spare situated, and stood on the lug wrench to tighten each nut.  And, just as I was preparing to crank the despicable flat up into position to take it to be repaired, good neighbor Wayne pulled up.  He asked if I needed any help, and when I said no thanks -- I was just putting stuff away now -- he remarked that he had apparently gotten there at just the right time. 

Ha.  Ha. 

When I told him about the landscape guy, he asked if the guy was blonde.  I told him, no, he was more grayish and really slim.  He said, "Yeah that'd be Joel.  Doesn't surprise me that he'd take off without helping."  So, apparently Joel's reputation precedes him, and follows him.

I rinsed my hands with water from a thermos and toweled off with stowed-away Wendy's napkins,  (I apparently failed to see the filth on my calves, acquired while trying to coax the spare onto the frickin' wheel.  At least I didn't notice it until I was sitting and soaking in the pedicure chair -- which, by the way, I absolutely deserved today!  The nice pedicure lady made an "interesting" face when I apologized for having filth on my calves because I had just changed a flat tire.  She should count her blessings that at least I took a quick spit bath of the important parts and changed clothes before going there.) and headed for Firestone.  The nice clerk checked and aired up all my tires, apologizing because my tire can't be ready until tomorrow.  When I'm leaving town.  In my car.  And then they were out of soap in the ladies room.

*Sigh*

So, I'm going to indulge in a cocktail this evening before our fried chicken dinner.  And it's good to know that I can still change a tire when the necessity presents itself.  I suppose.

I'm gonna be sooooo sore tomorrow.