So, the old rust bucket is on its way out fairly soon as we’re getting the same make that’s a year younger and in much better condition. But not before I head out to work this morning to find that the slow leak in one of the back tires that we’re filling up twice a week has lead to a total flat overnight. We’re talking right down to the rim. The foot pump in the trunk for such emergencies, in hopes of getting some air happening in order to drive to the local service station to fill up the flat, is broken. As I’ve had more than my share of flat tires, I managed to get the “donut” on in about ten minutes, wheels up to wheels down, so to speak.
Within a couple of hours of arriving all flustered to work, the button on my pants falls off. After failed attempts to hold the top of my pants together with a butterfly paper clasp, I began to discreetly ask around for a sewing kit. Luckily, I only had to ask three people before finding one; none of ‘em asking what I needed it for. Then it’s off to the men’s room to see how good I am with the needle and thread. Of course, this requires taking off shoes and hanging the pants on the hook while standing in one of the stalls (not much space to work with). As co-workers are in to do their business, you just know they’re wondering what the hell’s up with the shoes on the floor pointing in a direction they normally wouldn’t be pointing in, given the setting. The fact that there’s a pair of bare-legged, stocking’d feet must make it all the more strange.
Luckily the needle was already threaded or there would have been some colourful language, which would really have people wondering just what in the hell is going on in there.
I don’t like Mondays.
