This Isn't Working

So, the backhoe fairy didn't come through. Something about leaky wings. I suspect some yahoo said they don't *believe* in fairies. Well, I clapped, darnit! It should've worked.

So.

We rented a trencher. We didn't have the cash to rent a trencher, not with the wedding next weekend, but perhaps the children can forage for acorns and I can make pancakes from those. Think the neighbors would lend me a cup of water? Gah.

BUT. That was okay, because we had a trencher, and that would do the trick. Except, we got the weenie trencher. (The Big, Tough Trencher was out of commission - probably ought to have been a sign, huh?) We killed the weenie trencher. And we didn't get to the lateral line before it died. I suggested we plant explosives along the fenceline, thinking we'd be sure of hitting it that way. (Small ones, don't worry.) Zorak is ignoring me, now.

The brakes on the Suburban, after three years of being "bad", finally went to well, I guess "dangerous" would be a good description. So, Zorak fixed those. We were like a couple of cave men, looking at the rotors...

They don't look warped.
No. Hey, is that a warp, there?
No, I don't think so. This is steel. It's not going to look like a wet book.
Well, if feels like it when we stop.
*both pause*
Yeah, I don't see any warping.
*shrug*
Well, take it all in, and see what we need.

He came back with new rotors. And an explanation as to how you can tell brake rotors are warped. (You know, just in case you ever decide to do major vehicle repairs you aren't familiar with, right? That can't be just us...) It's the streaks. Oh. *pause* OH! (The things were covered in black streaks. Hah. I get it...) And brake pads. My goodness, but they're thick when they're new! Then he and the boys changed the oil in the Suburban. That was really neat. Until John leapt from the grill onto Smidge's head. Backward.

"I didn't see him!"

Well, no, that's true. Although, I'm not certain it's an acceptable explanation, considering.

I sent Smidge inside to lay down. But first, he had to puke in the hallway. Because he's a puker. *sigh* I hope he doesn't do that at job interviews. Or when he's dating. Could make his life rough.

This morning, Zorak loaded up the trencher to return to the rental yard. I crept quietly into the bathroom to take a long-awaited pampering bath with salt scrub and yummy-smelling things from The Foil Hat (I love Amy's things!) I've just begun to scrape and slather, when I hear "clunk, clunk, clunk" coming down the hall.

While I wondered if the intruder had killed Balto, and whether I could at least reach my sweats first (because nobody wants to be found naked, dead in the tub), I heard Zorak:

"Bad news, Sports Fans. The clutch went out on the truck. I'm going to have to take the Suburban."

I...

Uh...

Well, sometimes you just can't really do anything about... anything. And that's okay. But this wasn't what I'd planned to write when Friday rolled around, lemme tell ya!

Ah, Kiss those babies! (It keeps me sane at times like this.)
~Dy