S. D. F.

So let's talk about my weekend. I'm now two days out, so let's review.

Friday. End of school. Yearbook is done. Yearbook deposit is sent. The end of a rather . . . well, less than pleasant experience. And the students are relatively squirrelly. Rightfully so. I was squirrelly too.

And so we go to the Hardluck. And there is the talking to the couple about sock monkeys. We have already been over that . . . pleasant neighborly conversation. And we DO go to the Cadieux Cafe and have yummy food.

Saturday. Mom comes over and we shop for yarn. I plan to make skully socks for the break. As it turns out, sock making is annoying. I don't really like it. But that is certainly not my mother's fault.

Sunday. Get up. Feel really tired. Go back to bed. Get up at 2 p.m. Decide that I should do something. Go to Target. Feel all woozy at Target but have to go to Meijer to get food. Get grande soy goodness at Meijer and feel a bit better. They are out of yogurt. And I get the slowest check clerk in the store. She bags things by weight . . . all the heavy things together, all the light things together. So I have a bag of carrots and salad and a bag with a half gallon of soy milk, a two liter, and a half liter of apple juice. I watch her do this and think, shit, that is really not going to work . . . but I only have to carry them from my car to the door . . . four feet. AND she double bags things, but stuffs the first bag inside, not lining them up. Like she is planning for the first bag to protect the stuff from the ground when the second bag breaks. Whatever. Four feet.

I'm still feeling like doo doo and so I bought some zinc and grumbled about the demons making me sick for spring break. So I decide to go to blockbuster. Get the full season of Dexter. Sit on the couch and wait out the chills. And blockbuster even has Dexter. And it's cheaper than buying it at Target. Bonus. It's a quick trip because I have frozen food in the back seat.

I get in the car. I put the key in. And it won't turn.

No need to panic. This has happened before. Ironically, also when I had frozen food in the car. Something about the tumbler in the ignition core. Just need to jiggle it. And use WD-40. Where did I put that WD-40? Oh, yeah. I cleaned up and put it back in the house. No problem. I'm sitting in the Murray's Auto Parts parking lot. Walk over to Murray's. They close at 7 pm on Sundays. It is now 7:20 pm. Shit. Damn. F**k.

Call brother to have him order me another ignition core, something that we talked about the first time this happened . . . but I kinda forgot about once it "healed" itself. He is too far to ask for a ride home. I would call bop-bop but he got all "father knows best" the night before on the phone, which has pissed me off tremendously considering the state of his affairs. Spider Monkey has a friend from out of town. And I'm only about a mile from home. So I walk. After all, I have another car at home.

And for all those people who question my two car household, this is why . . . so I can walk home, get my other car and get my damn groceries out of the blockbuster parking lot. So I don't have to call you in a panic as my Lean Cuisine melts.

At home, I get WD-40. I forget paper towels. I drive back up to the Blockbuster parking lot. I try to start the skunk car for half an hour, dousing the ignition with WD-40 (for which I need paper towels, I quickly figure out). Jiggling the key. Putting the key in fast. Sliding it in slow. Anything to get that one stuck tumbler to tumble. I then move all the groceries, breaking all the double-bagged bags (boy, that first bag did keep the dirt off) and take them home. Put all my groceries away, assuming that the frozen stuff is still frozen (which might be quite the surprise later). I plan better and grab a flashlight AND paper towels.

Try for another half an hour or so before E2 saves me on her way home from Grand Rapids and goes with me to the bar. Let the Blockbuster people know about the dead skunk, so they hopefully won't tow it. My brother says he can get the part and will check on the internet "because I think there is an easy way to fix it".

Easier than the whole can of WD-40?

Monday. I watch all of Dexter. I anticipated the first big plot twist but not the second. I appreciate writing that I can not anticipate. My brother shows up after his twelve hour shift, which is sucky, I know. I offered him dinner. We drive to Blockbuster and the skunk is thankfully still there. My brother turns the key, sans any additional WD-40, in less than five minutes. Which was good because I was getting kind of high from the banana smell. Turns out, once you have the key turned, you can pop out the ignition with a screwdriver pushed up into a hole under the ignition. It just pops out. And the other ignition core just popped in. Like magic. A party trick for all of my friends. Look, I can take out my ignition (caution, should not be done without brother around . . . as he is the magical ignition fairy . . . and you will not be able to get the damn thing back in . . . because he is one with the tumblers).

So the weekend is over. The skunk is in the driveway. The key turns. The car starts. I have two ignition cores. My brother is rebuilding the old one. Of course, the first one lasted 160,000 miles, but just in case. And now all I need to steal Neon cores it one's key and a chop stick.