Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: WEDNESDAY, June 16, 1993 TAG: 9306160066
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Ben Beagle
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
You know how that goes. Bad things happen almost daily, and the cat jumping up on the bedroom window sill scares the hell out of you.
This latest series of bad news started when the computer became ill some weeks ago.
Shortly after that we discovered that our cat Judy had a diseased thyroid gland, which eventually led to surgery, which was successful.
Before it was time to take the stitches out, our car began refusing to go into gear when we wanted it to, and it was diagnosed as having a transmission problem.
(I have to risk being tasteless here and report that in between these events, our dog Skeeter - in addition to becoming more insane each day - began throwing up at random times, usually while we're at breakfast.
(This behavior is caused by this obsession he has to lick floors. It would not surprise us to learn Skeeter also has multiple personalities, all of them foul.)
I forgot to say that when I got my computer back, I fouled it up again by damaging the power cord. But let that go.
One morning, doom heavily on my mind, I began to mow the grass early in the morning to escape the heat of the day on Happy Highfields Road.
There was a breeze, and it went pretty well, and I was thinking that I might make it to the weekend alive after all.
That was before I moved my trusty Jeep so that I could mow along the edge of the driveway.
Seconds after I fired it up, I became the only human in the history of modern suburbia to run over his own string trimmer with a 15-year-old car.
The manufacturer, of course, does not recommend this kind of treatment for your string trimmer. It trimmed grass a little funny after this mishap, and I don't blame it.
I said to myself that nothing else bad could possibly happen and then I lay awake half the night waiting for the water heater to explode.
The water heater didn't explode, of course, and in the morning, I was taking a better view of life. I was able to shave without cutting myself and there was birdsong in the morning air.
I was feeding Judy some sliced beef catfood - while singing certain selections from "The Phantom of the Opera" - when the band gave way and my wristwatch fell into the sink.
In that same black moment, Skeeter threw up.
The neighbors on Happy Highfields Road probably are wondering about that hoarse scream they heard at 6 a.m. the other day.
by CNB