I tend to fret the small stuff
The word on the street is that I should not fret the small stuff. I wish!
Last evening, I put the iPad on the couch. Behind a cushion, to offer protection from me, mainly. And then I sat down and gave the power cord a little extra elbow. Broke the corrector. The plus is that I did not damage the iPad (whew!). the minus is that I now have to order a replacement cable from Amazon.With Prime, and some judicious screen time, I should be good. But this was not something required.
On the weather channel, I learned that the hurricane season for ’22 is past the half way point. So far, NO named storms. Almost unheard of. The met-heads are quick to warn that this “can turn un a dime”. We have plenty of time for a few big storms. And we won’t know until just before things turn dirty. I live far enough north to be worried; nothing else. However, I have a sump pump pump that I don’t trust. It hums. Menacingly. If the water starts to rise in the magic hole, I will be bailing with my little yellow pail. And that means sticking around, just in case. Fret the small stuff? I do.
I did move the bicycle (stationaary) away from the area, and now I need to decide which pump model will restore my sense of security.
Outside, there was a bungee cord that kept some antenna cables in order. Today, I touched the bungee, and it disintegrated. Literally. Into small pieces. Sunlight destroys. Something else to replace; next time I’m going for metal straps, because they seem to last longer.
I will skip the beach wander this evening. After the attack by thousands of freshly hatched skeeters, last evening, I am now guilty of fretting the small stuff.
Our local grocery store “got” their liquor sales licence today. I am trying to process how this fits the historic tales of bootleggers.
