A working holiday
Today was a working holiday. After spending late hours at the office, I finally recovered some time for myself, and promptly got nominated to the position of “official prepare the car for spring” guy. No big deal, given that it only happens once a year; I have another 11 months and a bit to prepare for next time around. All in all, a chance to “hang out” in a couple of different garages while someone else did the hard work.
My first stop for the morning involved swapping the winter paws for the summer ones. I went to this with a certain trepidation, because back before the snow started, an earnest tire salesman notified my spouse (it’s her car, honest) that the four would have to be replaced due to excessive wear. However, I hid them away in basement for the winter months, and through some miraculous process, the same salesman declared them to be “fine for another season”. Immediate financial relief. The eagle-eyed mechanic spotted that our brakes were worn (long winter of stopping and starting) and so it would be a good move to get them done, now. I’m easily convinced when it comes to brakes, so the pads were brought in from wherever such things live, and after several hundred dollars and far too long listening to a test pod of car stereos, I was free to leave for a summer on the road.
My pool also needed its life support system installed, and with a dexterity bred from many seasons of “start up”, I filled and filtered the pool. Once I clean the detritus from the bottom, I can start convincing family members about the beneficial practice of aquatic exercise. The filter handle broke during the winter, and the pool store is sold out (a lot of those handles broke, apparently) so I’ll use pliers for the first few backwash sessions.
There’s an insistent warning light in the car that advises me how oil must be changed. Into water, or wine, or what? No answer. Instead, I headed down to yet another garage, where they were able to fit me in for a “car dialysis”. Out with the old, in with the new; even if all the oil is geologically aged in stone, it still seems to turn off the warning light. How does that work, I wonder? Service stations are noisy.
I also spent some time in a couple of hardware stores, tracking down some metal brackets to reinforce the patio railing. I could just nail it “a whole bunch”, but the brackets should be structurally superior. Maybe I should get a free consultation from the son who would be engineer, but he’s always away. Now the day is over, and I can put aside my holiday mentality and return to my normal daily duties. Less activity.
