One of Those Days!

My friend Melissa's dad died earlier this week. His funeral was in her home town of Williamston this afternoon. Williamston is about 2 hours from Raleigh and about 30 minutes from our river house in Blount's Creek. Since we haven't been to Blounts Creek since September, I thought I would make a circuitous trip.

One of our neighbor's at Blounts Creek got a new statue. Ronald's Ronald!

I left home at 8:45, wasted time stopping by the library that didn't open until 10:00 on Fridays, grabbed a biscuit from BoJangles and hit the highway. At 11:00, I rolled up to the double-wide at Blounts Creek. Since I wouldn't be staying long, I didn't turn on the power. I walked through and saw a spot on the kitchen ceiling where we have had trouble with a leak. It was back. Water had been standing on the counter. Some had dripped into a trashcan under the counter and was frozen. Yep, it has definitely been cold!

Kitchen Ceiling leaks again!

Well, you know I have to pee everywhere I stop (not unlike Riley Dog, I have to leave my calling card!) In the dark, I sat upon a very cold toilet and drained off the Diet Coke. I called Tony to report the leak in the kitchen. He asked about the pipes. I hadn't seen any water in unusual places. He told me to grab the flashlight and make sure. When I walked into the larger bathroom, I noticed a puddle on the floor. Upon further inspection, I realized there was ice in the toilet. Not just floaters, but solid chunks! The tank was at least 5 gallons of solid ice. I went back to the frigid toilet I had used. It too was frozen. Now, just what would I have done if my ass had stuck to the toilet like that boys tongue stuck to the light pole in The Christmas Story? Sometimes, you just don't know how lucky you are.

Frozen and cracked!

Next stop...Tony sent me to the back of the trailer to turn the water on. I crawled underneath (thank heavens I can stand up under there), flipped the switch, listened as the pipes filled with water, then watched as water began shooting out the cracks in the frozen pipes. "Turn it off! Turn it off!" was Tony's response. I did. I hate to say that I was glad I had a funeral to go to, but was relieved I could do nothing to make the messes go away.

I ran back inside the trailer long enough to change from sweats to funeral clothes. And would you believe, the beach air shrank my black pants! Sometimes you just have to make do with what you got. Hence, I wore my black pants and did NOT tuck in my white shirt. Add a sweater and hope the layers cover up the the bulging pants.

NO PHOTOS OF MY BIG ASS!

Back in the car, I headed to Williamston. I stopped at Wendy's for a cheeseburger and left my calling card in their bathroom. While washing my hands, my phone rang. My friend Jane was calling. She was already at the funeral home. I walked out of the bathroom, but thought I was missing something I had taken in. I told Jane to hold on while I went back to the bathroom to look for my phone. Not until the door closed behind me did I clue in. I announced to Jane that I am such a dumb-ass! At that point, she realized the phone I was looking for was between my shoulder and my ear and I was talking to her on it! DUH!

Really cool car in the Wendy's parking lot waiting to take me to the asylum!

At the funeral home, I found Jane and a few girls from the Piedmont neck of the woods. We sat together during the service. The ancient minister got off to a slow start. Apparently, he did not know the deceased very well since he kept referring to Angus as Anglius. I could not look at Jane and struggled to maintain control of my face throughout the service.

Back to the car and another 2 hours on the road and I made it home before dark. Look who was waiting for me!

Cora welcomes me home!

Big Dummy!

After a few phone calls to friends last night, I discovered the volume on my cell phone was not working. Anyone on the other end of the phone sounded like they were whispering to me. Those of you who know me also know my hearing is on the poor side. I mashed every button looking for a way to make things louder. No luck! My best guess...when the egg cracked, it filled the holes where you put your ear. The rest of the phone was clean and seemed to be working fine.

Off to Alltel for help or, possibly, a new phone. The folks listened respectfully and controlled their faces when I explained an egg had cracked in my pocket and all over my cell phone. I handed over my phone. She dialed my number from her office phone then started mashing a button on the side of my phone. "There you go," she said. That's it? No complicated steps? No egg in the little holes? No purchase of a new phone! Woohoo!

As I was telling my youngest (13 years old) about my trip to Alltel, he said, "Mom, I could have fixed that for you." How much longer until I automatically understand how my technology gadgets work?

Note to Self...

For future reference, don't collect eggs from the hen house, put them in the same pocket of your skinny jeans (read TIGHT PANTS) as your cell phone and forget about it. One innocent squat to pull one stupid weed and communication with the outside world is gone...so is your breakfast!

Further, once you wipe the egg from your phone onto your shirt (forget about what is left in your pocket), go inside and take a shower immediately. Continuing to pull weeds in the cemetery while smelling like bad scrambled eggs brings weird bugs to check you out. Add a little sweat and the dog even thinks you smell bad!