On serpentine items

Nearly every morning, although now that the weather is getting cooler, it’s more like every other morning, I water tomatoes. This involves taking down five or six loops of black hose from my handy-dandy hose hanger, flopping the pile of hose onto the ground, turning on the water, and pulling the hose toward the side yard barrels or front yard pots of tomatoes. But most of the time, the hose on the ground manages to tie itself in knots, and I have to stop and try to disentangle the mess. Since I’ve been doing this at least 26 times a month for the past five and-a-half months, that comes to something like 143 times I have dealt with the sometimes-tangled hose. You’d think I would have a worked all the kinks out of my procedure (pun intended) by now!

Today I was up at the church vacuuming the sanctuary. I won’t mention the minor frustration involved in navigating a vacuum cleaner between the 288 legs of some 72 ganged chairs, first from the front side of a row, and then from the back side thereof. That’s kind of tedious stuff, but I am fairly good at – and actually energized by – doing boring, mundane, repetitive task, so I fell to with a vengeance and conquered all those crumbs. The vacuuming was a little more challenging than normal because on Wednesday night, Pastor Barb had had the congregation divided into five groups in five widely spaced locations along the walls of the sanctuary, using straws to blow spit wads at post-it note targets on the walls. It was an effective object lesson about sin and missing the mark, but three days later, there were tiny spit wads all over the floor and stuck on the walls; some higher than I could reach to scrape off.

Anyway, my main issue today was not with the chair legs or the spit wads; it was with the @!#$^% (I’m pretty sure that spells “STUPID!”) 100-foot orange extension cord. That beast has somehow gotten majorly twisted, such that it’s a royal pain to roll up and an even greater royal pain to unroll. It’s all lumpy and bumpy, like its insides have been wrung very tightly. When you pick it up in a given place, it jumps like a living thing and instantly coils itself into a twisted nightmare. And if you try to pull on the ends to untwist it, it will attack your shins with a vengeance. It’s kinkier than black hair, for crying out loud!

So having dealt with a 100-foot long kinked hose and a 100-foot long kinked extension cord in the same morning, I’m ready for everything to be smooth, free, and unencumbered tomorrow.


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