I think the Mayans got it wrong, or at least we interpreted their calendar wrong. How else could this year be explained? Dont' get me wrong-- out of chaos and broken things come order and newer, better things, but still. I'm waiting for something else to say it's tired of the slavery we inflict and jump on a boat to a newer, better place.
Last year we got the nice letter from the HOA.
"Dear person or persons living in our little chunk of heaven. You are sadly lacking in any kind of decorum such as we like to have around here. You do keep your garage door closed as per rule 7742-68 (see p. 92 of home owners manual-- the one in the notebook we thoughtfully provided for you. Yes, the one shoved to the back of the junk drawer. We don't know how you could miss it, the drawer catches on it everytime you open it.) You usually mow the front yard on the very afternoon we decide to send out another carefully typed letter. We forgot to make it a rule that your ragamuffin children had to be confined to the back yard or else you'd be getting a letter about that as well. (We can't think of everything.) BUT, please, please, please (and actually we don't mean the please, it just makes it look like we're being nice, but since we had to take the time to write this letter, thus inflaming our carpel tunnel syndrome, we really are a bit irate) either move or paint the trim on your house. You might want to wash off the spider webs as well while you're at it. It's starting to look a bit creepy and with all of the shrieks and moans eminating from the bowels therein, we're afraid it might be a little bit haunted. You have until October. Get it done.
Thank you.
Your HOA
Dan was going to paint it himself. I thought about it for two seconds and said NO! I seldom win on such matters, because it usually involves Dan buying himself a new toy, like a much longer ladder and repelling gear. He gave in far too easily. I should have known. The plans were bigger than my mind could grasp. I may have won the battle, but it was a war Dan sought.
Late in June, Dan's car stopped starting. It's a valid concern. He was crazy busy at work and brought a lot of it home and didn't have nights to spend with his car and his car fixing toys. He took the truck to work. The day the kids and I left for Idaho, Dan came back 20 minutes after he left for work and 15 minutes before I was going to leave. I really was. I was getting the kids in the bathroom and we were heading out the door. By 8 a.m.. The truck wasn't working right. I couldn't leave him for 3 weeks without a car. So instead of driving to Idaho for 7 hours, we spent 7 hours looking for a suburban. We got it. I don't regret it. It's hard to park and I still haven't figured out all of the buttons, but it's good. I left that with him since it didn't have the back bench and the van was already packed to the gills. I left for Idaho. Half way there the gas gauge on my van went crazy. It did it twice before we got to Weiser. Need I say that swearing was intermingled with my fervent prayers? I took the van in and the mechanic pretty much said unless he caught the van in the act, there wasn't much he could do. She was playing coy. Then the locking mechanism on the sliding door stopped working-- it locks, just manually.
Frustrating.
Long trip later.....
And a few weeks later.....
Funny thing about broken down vehicles. Given a little bit of time, the fix can turn out to be quite easy. A new battery for the car. New spark plugs for the truck. So why was it that we needed a suburban RIGHT NOW? I had mentioned it might be better to have one. Dan obviously struck while the iron was hot. But the car story isn't over yet.
I'm driving the van and the battery light comes on-- you know, like it's dead. But I'm clearly driving down the high way. The van doesn't act up for anyone else. Just me. It's jealous. The big white SUV starts getting the usage and little ol' blue gets jealous and throws a tizzy fit. I'd be jealous too.
We were good for awhile. Yesterday I went out to the garage fridge to get the pork chops. I tried to come back in. Those rotten kids had locked me out. Actually they hadn't. As I sat there, holding raw pork chops in one hand and jiggling the door knob with the other and yelling for Dan with my very loud voice, I realized it didn't feel locked. Sure enough, the knob was broken. Then last night I went to turn on the computer for my daily fix of bright pixalled entertainment and there was nothing. No familiar whir, no red lights, no nothing. The computer was dead. Funny. We'd been discussing not too long ago the need for a new computer. Ours is/was 9 years old and moving in the sluggish way of a 90 year old left in a nursing home for far too long. The power source was dead. It probably burned out because Heidi doesn't like cupboard doors to be left open, so she was constantly closing the computer hutch as I constantly opened it. I'm now writing to you from our new computer. Picked up fresh today.
So, be it the Mayans or fate or Dan's masterful plan, several things are changing around here. Oh, and does anyone want to buy a nice blue van?