Tuesday, January 17, 2017

RAINY DAY STORY



 "Noah called. He picks us up in ten minutes."

Sit back, take a load off, and I'll tell you about my trip to town. Actually, the whole ordeal is too damn long, so I'll only offer selective highlights.

BTW, you won't really appreciate this unless you read my previous post RAGE. Even then, you might not appreciate it, but that's beside the point.

I desperately had to drive to town today, since I was nearly out of food and supplies. And I was completely out of cat food. My trio of felines haven't had a decent bite in two days. The last I saw, they were praying for mice.

Anyone who faithfully reads this blog (all three of you) knows how much I dread driving to town. It's an infinitely long stretch of dangerous, narrow, winding mountains roads. It scares the jeeters out of me on a good day. You can imagine my apprehension when it rains.

Today it didn't just rain. It was a non-stop Biblical deluge. I got up early and figured I'd wait until the rain tapered off. By 10:30 it was raining so hard that I was considering sending a dove out to look for an olive branch.

I finally realized that if I waited for the downpour to abate, I might be hanging around for months. As if on cue, a heavy mountain fog appeared as soon as I started driving. The windows steamed up and the rain was so torrential that seeing anything was an impossibility.

I did, however, see my entire life flash before my eyes multiple times. By the time I got to town my legs were limper than leftover spaghetti and I figured it would take the Jaws of Life to extract my fingers from the steering wheel.

The first thing I had to do was get gas (that's petrol, for those of you in Yorkshire). I was in line (in the store) waiting to pay the cashier. There was a grizzly old man in front of me (I'm old, but he was about fifty years older....).

Suddenly -
with absolutely no warning -
he turned toward me and let out the Mother of all sneezes. It was a direct hit. That son of a bitch anointed me with a Hillbilly Tsunami. I couldn't believe it.

I held my breath for nine and a half minutes until I got to the cashier - while silently putting every imaginable foul curse on him, and alternately praying for my own death.
All I really wanted to do was get home so I could boil my clothes and douse myself in lye soap and Listerine. 

Next stop was the bank. I usually utilize the drive-through window, but today I had to go inside (I won't burden you with unnecessary details).
When I came out again, my car wouldn't start. It's a damn good thing I hadn't robbed the bank - I would have never gotten away.

Despite the pouring rain, I was forced to open the hood (that's the bonnet for those of you in Oxfordshire) and mess around with the engine while getting mercilessly drenched.
It took twenty minutes to start the car.

At this point I had no doubt that I was being punished for multitudinous past sins. 

How multitudinous are your sins, Jon?

Let's put it this way: a priest once passed out as he was hearing my confessions. After he regained consciousness, we had sex.

Hey, don't sweat it. I only said that to scare my readers in Iowa.

I'm not Catholic. But I have made a few priests swoon in my time. 

Thanks to this unnecessary and extremely distasteful detour, I've completely lost my chain of thought. It doesn't matter - this post is getting too long, anyway.

One more (unrelated) thing: 
Why is the heat always turned up in the supermarket? Every time I go grocery shopping it's like being in Barstow in August. Today it was about 110 degrees in there. I felt like I was going to pass out and actually had to linger by the frozen chicken thighs to revive.

I have a lot more to tell but figure I'd better quit while I'm ahead. If indeed I am ahead.
In conclusion:
I miraculously made it home safely. It took forty rain-drenched slip-and-slide minutes to drag all the groceries up the muddy, perilously slick hill to my back door. This is the hilliest place I ever lived. It's like a Coney Island fun house.

The cats finally have food again. And - after I completely disinfect myself - I'm going to bed. It'll take a few days to recover. 


35 comments:

  1. Hip hip hurray! BUT corrupting innocent priests........!!!
    MaggieB

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    1. Heck, the priests corrupted me...

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  2. Oh god Jon!!!!!! That is just plain nasty. You must get out of there, hell you can crash on my sofa till you find a place. Bring the cats and stuff....keep the Gabors Sister down there though.....I don't care of possums.

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    1. might I also suggest taking a extra zinc and vitamin c tablet

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    2. and another pps. I couldn't be catholic anymore. My confessions were so many and bad, the poor priest had to pack his lunch and dinner.

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    3. I think I'd better leave the cats with the Gabor sisters. My felines can be rowdy.

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    4. You and I have the uncanny ability to render priests speechless.

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  3. Thank goodness for frozen chicken thighs or we would never read about your trips to town again.

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    1. The supermarket was so hot that I'm surprised the chicken thighs didn't thaw out.

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  4. I love it when you go to town, makes me grin!
    Mh

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    1. If I made you grin, it was worth the trouble.

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  5. I'm very glad you made it there and back in one piece, mate. Now stay in bed a while and think happy thoughts about those priests. *naughty giggle*

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    1. By the time I recover from this excursion, I'll be out of food and compelled to drive to town again. It's an endless cycle.

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  6. I'm old too Jon and seriously, I peed my pants hearing about your trip down the mountain. I'll have to put on a pair of Depends next time I read your blog.

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    1. Well, if you got wet from laughing at my wit, it was worth the trouble.

      (I'm assuming that I have wit....but it's a matter of debate)

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  7. PS) I pray you do not get sick.

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    1. Believe me - I'm praying that I don't get sick, too....

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  9. Jon, I once was behind a small woman in a deli line who spun round at a crouch to sneeze. She actually made my pants legs flutter like a sea breeze --but with snot in it. I just stepped out of line and drove home, took my pants off in the back porch then tossed them out in the yard. Norma wondered why I came home from shopping with no pants on --it was not my customary routine. But I didn't get sick. I am sorry you were slimed by a hillbilly but some people think its more sanitary to sneeze on the person behind them --even in this state.

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    1. I'm sorry for laughing at your miserable plight - but I was visualizing it. One of the many reasons I hate going out among strangers is because of incidents like this. People are notoriously unsanitary and often have no regard for others.
      This wasn't the first time I was hit by a human tsunami.

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  10. Every January and February I question the sanity of live where I do, how often do you question the sanity of Tennessee?

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    1. Believe it or not, I think Tennessee looks rather tame compared to west Texas. Maybe it's a toss-up...

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  11. I read your last few posts to catch up a little bit, but I'll only comment here.

    Your outing may have entailed a string of one mishap after another, but you sure know how to put a spin on your tales of woe to make us laugh. That takes talent, cowboy!

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    1. Thanks, Susan. I was initially going to delete this post because I thought it was crappy. When I saw the comments, I changed my mind.

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  12. Hallelujah! (The talk of priests knocked yippee out of my head, I guess--but not Catholic, either.) If there was any way to stockpile all summer, I would. Cat food, kitty litter, toilet paper, canned goods...I would try to gather up what I could all the good months--well "better" traveling months.

    I hope you were thoroughly cleansed and caught some sleep. I know how it is to take days to recover from an outing...even when I'm not driving and the weather is nice--LOL! ;)

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    1. I'm finally disinfected and I did get some desperately needed sleep. Stockpiling during the summer months is a vert good idea. I usually keep some extra food around - but I hadn't thought about keeping extra litter and kitty chow.

      I'm glad to be safely back home. More rain is expected tomorrow.

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  13. I shouldn't laugh. Really, I shouldn't. I don't know what was better -- the hillbilly or the priest!

    So glad the kitties bellies are full once more. 'Was trying not to fret! I wonder if you wouldn't be a great candidate for Amazon's new drone delivery service? :)

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    1. I'm wondering if the drones would be able to locate me in this hilly, tree-infested area. Well, it would be worth a try.
      I was hesitant to include the priest thing, but I'm glad it gave you a laugh.
      I don't think I'll ever fully recover from the hillbilly tsunami.

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  14. Replies
    1. I swear on my great-grandmother's false teeth that everything I write is true (well, maybe not the priest incident...). I often see humor in horrible situations. It's the only thing that keeps me going.

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  15. Jon,
    I KNOW how it is to drive those twisty, mountainous roads. Back in 2012, when Bill and I were visiting my father's roots in the Pisgah Mountains of western North Carolina/Tennessee border, we had to go back to our hotel room in Johnson City, Tennessee (no hotels or motels in hillbilly country). We had just started out in the fog and then came a torrential downpour. Our window shield wipers were on high and Bill's hands were clenched on the steering wheel of our rented Dodge Caravan van and he was leaning forward over the steering wheel trying not to miss one of those hair-raising turns as we descended the mountain that is the border between North Carolina and Tennessee. We were VERY luck not to have missed a turn and go sliding off that mountain into the wooded valley below. Thank God we didn't meet any oncoming traffic either, if we did I don't know what we would have done. I think that was as close as Bill and I ever came to checking out. I'll never have that experience again though, after being found out as "practicing the gay lifestyle" (as a distant cousin who I was visiting) told me and banned me from seeing his parents and collecting any more of my genealogy information. Dangerous but beautiful area, those Appalachian mountains. I'm glad you didn't have an accident. Where I live now, only three miles from a super market and we go at least three, sometimes four times a week on very flat coastal terra firma. I love it!
    Ron

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    1. Ron, you know exactly what I'm talking about - since you've been here and experienced it first-hand. It is very easy to go over a cliff on one of these treacherous mountain roads - especially in the rain and fog. The danger is no exaggeration. I'm glad you and Bill survived the trip.....and, of course, your bigoted distant cousin is as dangerous as the roads (*smile*).

      I love the peace and privacy here, and the beautiful rural scenery - - but I do have misgivings about being so far from town, especially since I hate driving so much.
      The ONE good thing about living in Texas is that it's FLAT....

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  16. Your readers in Iowa! That was the best laugh I have had so far today.

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    1. I initially didn't know what I was going to say - - but Iowa just happened to pop into my mind. I've never been there....and I don't know if any of my readers live there. I'm glad it gave you a laugh.

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