Sofas moving at highway speeds! Tow trucks! Chainsaws! Junkyards, needles, and more! Read on!
The day starts off slowly, as Saturdays everywhere really should.
Went to pick up the Blue Devil’s cats from where they’ve been living with her ex-roommate ever since she moved from K-Town to, well, K-Town. The vet, as with my cats, found nothing except dental issues. When will pets learn to brush and floss? Don’t they know dental is expensive? The cats got their needle-jabbing and we left.
Drove out to Embrun with my utility trailer to pick up my new sectional couch. My utility trailer’s payload area is 4′ x 8′ and maybe 2′ or 3′ tall. The sectional fills half my living room. These facts, perhaps, explain the funny looks from passersby on the highway as well as how I could feel every gust of wind through my car (although at a buck-ten per liter I’m starting to feel it even without the
sailfull trailer, if you know what I mean).
In order to fit the new couch in the house, the two old ones had to go, starting a chain of events that would last ’til Monday. One is a futon with a metal frame. I figured I would donate that one to my office. It rode in the trailer and got dropped off on the way to Embrun. The other is soft green couch. According to my memory, the couch at the cottage is an uncomfortable, ratty thing that this green couch would be a perfect replacement for.
We get home with the couch, but we can’t unload it yet because we have dinner reservations at Baton Rouge in T-15m. We take the Blue Devil’s Mighty Aphrodite which is less encumbered by a sofa-stuffed trailer than my car, Stromberg. The parking lot is under construction. There are little concrete barriers that some drone decided to place right along the outer line of the parking spot.
How Not to Do Parking Lot Construction
This is supposedly worth a thousand words. Note that the ill-placed concrete barriers have nice, sharp edges and evil metal rebar anchors poking out the top. While parking, we rub the barrier which results in an evil hissing sound coming from one of the tires.
We decide to go eat dinner for now and worry about the tire later (one of a million reasons why my Blue Devil is the best ever in the whole wide world). Dinner is fantastic. Do not ignore the following: if you want good ribs, go to Baton Rouge. Make reservations, they’re always packed. Yes, that’s right, the ribs are always packed (you know you were thinking it).
Back in the parking lot, we attempt to remove the volumetrically reduced tire so as to put the spare donut on. This plan backfires when we discover that one lugnut is smaller than the others (why? Why this tire, specifically? Damn you, Murphy!). A call to CAA results in a tow truck showing up a half-hour later. This guy is friendly and helpful and is not but should be wearing a “Redneck and Proud” shirt. He can’t get the nut off either so he tows the car to nearby Canadian Tire. Then he gives us a ride to my neighbourhood because he really is a nice guy. Devilish practices How Not To Be Seen in the cramped cab while we listen to country music and banter with the driver’s chatty girlfriend, and we enjoy a nice walk home before enduring pain and contortionism to get the couch in the house.
The day starts off slowly, as Sundays really should.
We call Canadian Tire to find that a new tire will be $75, plus $12 for balancing (taxes not included). We call around trying to locate a used tire. This leads us to adventure to a junkyard in Gatineau, Gagnon’s. Barry is a nice guy. After we called him (he wasn’t open but was hanging around the yard and agreed to meet us) he said he’d find us a used tire for $30. When we got there, he gave us a few spare lugnuts and offered us an unused tire on a rim for $40. Screw you, Crappy Tire.
We run off to Cora’s for lunch and stop by home to grab a socket set that might remove the shrunken lugnut (if not I can buy an individual socket at CT for not very much). While trying Not To Be Seen while working in the CT parking lot (they really don’t like that), we put the new tire on and inflate it (hooray for cigarette lighter compressors) enough to drive over to the nearby gas station where we donate $0.50 to charity and get air in return (can it be called donating if you get something in return? Does air count?).
Back at the monkey farm, the green couch is made comfortable in my car’s trailer for a trip to the cottage. On getting there we discover my driveway has been perpendicularly intercepted by a tree. At least it wasn’t the roof like in 2001. This, of course, means I get to get out my chainsaw! Happy day! The tree is given the official What For and we park the car.
Inspection reveals one dead mouse and a nice couch that I’d forgotten the crappy one was replaced with. After looking around we head back to the city with my green couch. A new plan forms in my head: I will take the green couch to the office tomorrow and bring back the futon, which I will place on the back deck and cover with a tarp.
Monday does not start nice and slow, but it never really does so nobody is surprised.
The couch and futon get swapped, my back deck becomes that much more comfortable and the office foyer becomes a little bit more soft and ugly. A week later, this story is told.