A Broken Bed and Spilled Coca Cola

Even though it was a day off, Friday was not a good day. After breakfast, I emptied the clean dishes out of the dishwasher and put them away.  Then I gathered the trash from all the wastebaskets and put it in my two big plastic trash cans with wheels, and cleaned out the cat box, but I didn't haul  the trash out to the dumpster in the alley.   I just didn't have the energy.  I just left it sitting by the back door.  (The trash cans have lock on lids.)  Instead, I took a shower and washed my hair,then watched TV for a while.  About 3:30 in the afternoon, I went over to see my folks.  But first, I had to pop the hood(bonnet) on my trusty 1987 Toyota Crayola and check the clutch fluid reservoir -- there is a very slow leak in the hydraulic line somewhere, and when the fluid gets too low, its the same difference as trying to shift gears without pushing in the clutch first. (I keep a bottle of hydraulic fluid in my trunk.)  Fortunately, I didn't have to add any.   I held my breath as I turned the key in the ignition, and was relieved to hear the engine  turn over, which meant my battery was still OK.  The unrelenting heat like we've been having can do a car battery in just the same as severe cold can -- I know that from experience!

I had my car's air conditioner on the fuel efficient setting with the blower on medium, but it didn't really make much difference.  It was hot outside anyway, (107 F/42 C) but out on the street, with all that asphalt, the heat was unbelievable.  It was like being in an oven.

My mom was in the "computer room" (my brother's old bedroom)  when I rang the doorbell, so she heard it this time.  We visited for a while, and then she said, "Oh, did I tell you what happened?  Your father broke my bed last night."  She took me into their bedroom and showed me.  They have a four-poster bed.  The bed's side rails have a pair of metal hooks on each end that hook onto slits cut in the headboard and foot board, and then the ends of the slats sit on the side rails and hold the mattress.  My dad had somehow used the post on the foot board on his side of the bed to pull himself up with and had caused the side rail to break loose from the foot board, taking a big chunk of the bed post with it.  My mom was able to use a stack of books to support the side rail on that side.  Luckily none of the slats had fallen out, otherwise the mattress and box springs would have been on the floor.

Now, you have to understand about this bed.  My mom grew up during the depression.  Her family lived way out in the country on a farm.  They never went hungry, and they had the things they needed, but they didn't have "nice" things.  After she graduated from high school (valedictorian), she moved into town and stayed with my aunt (her oldest sister) and uncle while she went to secretarial school (typing, shorthand).  Then she got a good job in town in the offices of Humble Oil Company. and got an apartment.   She was working when she met and married my dad and she continued to work (with time off for children)  right up until retirement age.  The bed in question is part of a mahogany bedroom suite (bed, vanity with stool, nightstand and tall chest of drawers) that they bought in1947, shortly after she and my dad were married.  They got some kind of "package" deal on the furniture, because at the same time as they bought the bedroom suite, they bought a china cabinet, a dining table with drop leaves, an extension leaf and six chairs, and a sofa (which has since bit the dust -- the only piece of that furniture they don't still have).  They bought it on credit and paid it out  $5 a week. And it's not only nice furniture, it's good furniture -- solid mahogany, not veneer on cheaper wood.  They've had this furniture several years longer than they've had me.  My mom has a big emotional investment in this furniture.  It's her first "nice" furniture, and they've had it for over 60 years.  When she told me what had happened, it wasn't  "the" bed or "our" bed, it was "my" bed.

I suppose it can be repaired.  Maybe my brother can fix it.  He's got some serious woodworking chops.   I've sent him an email.  He and his wife were supposed to chaperon some of her violin students to some kind of seminar in Germany sometime this summer, but I've forgotten when they said they were going.  We kind of move in different orbits these days.

Since I'd just gotten paid, I decided  that on my way home, I'd stop off at Whataburger and treat myself to a Whataburger, fries, large Coke and two large vanilla shakes. (I put the shakes in the freezer and eat them like ice cream.  Two will last me til the end of next week.)  I have a cardboard drink carrier in my car, but apparenly, I didn't get the Coke down in the carrier far enough.  The turn from the main drag into my street is rather sharp, and I took it a little faster than I should have.  You guessed it.  The Coke fell over and dumped out all over the floorboard of my car.  aaaarrrrgggghhhh!  I pulled into the parking lot of the bank on the corner and bailed out as much of it as I could, but then my hands were sticky and I got sticky on the door latch,  the seatbelt buckle, the gearshift knob, my keys, the front door knob. . . .Fortunately, I was only about a block and a half from home.  I got an old towel and mopped up as much as I could get up, and wiped everything down, but I was not a happy camper, especially when I was eating reheated french fries. . . . 

Saturday's high was 110 F/43 C  It's only supposed to get up to 109 F Sunday.  Right now, at 12:30 (0030 hours) of a Sunday morning, it's 91 F/33 C with 10% humidity. 

The chorus of this song by Phil Collins pretty much captures my mood right now.



Surely you recognize the guy playing lead guitar in Phi's band, but how about the bass player, or the guy on drums?