Oh, Good Grief

Today, we tried to go for another bike ride. This time with the whole fambly. Like all things that involve the whole family, this started out fine and then went right straight to Hell without passing Go and without collecting $200. See, both childrens wanted to ride in the trailer. This is a very tight squeeze, especially considering HannahC travels with an entourage of stuffed animals and snacks. But we gave it a shot.

We got MaxieC all strapped in nice and comfy, then we went to install HannahC. There was barely enough width for the two of them, and MaxieC started hollering immediately that HannahC was touching him. It was her shoulder touching his, but this did not matter to him. It might as well have been her poking him in the nose for all his protestations.

Well, while this was going on, it was discovered that one of the clips for the second safety harness was missing. We had used that clip just yesterday, so I knew it had to be around. We started rooting through the trailer. Nothing. Removed the childrens, still nothing, though now The Mrs. was preoccupied with "keeping an eye on them." (Which is code for "yelling at them".) I turned the thing upside down and shook it. Nothing. Looked all over the driveway, in the garage, in the closet where HannahC had hung up her jacket after yesterday's ride. Still nothing.

OK, HannahC, you will be riding your bike instead of riding in the trailer.

What's that? Now this means a wardrobe change? Sheesh.

She disappears inside the house. We wait. And wait. And wait. I remove MaxieC from the trailer so he can ride his scooter around. Still no sign of HannahC. The Mrs. goes in to investigate.

She comes out angry. Which, by itself, is not altogether that noteworthy.

The report is that HannahC couldn't get her dress unbuttoned, so she just stood there, perplexed. (I'm wondering if I need to get my money back from the super-genius certification place, except I know that I also behave like this at times, so it's a sure sign of super-geniusitude.) Also, somehow, HannahC has managed to undo all the clips on her bike helmet in the process, thus negating the professional adjustments that had gone on at the bike store yesterday.

Eventually MissC came back out, and I futzed with her bike helmet for a minute or two and got it back to being pretty well adjusted. If only I had the magic futz that could make Me, CherkyB pretty well adjusted...

I stuffed MaxieC back into the trailer, and we were off. Went all around the neighborhood. Saw all the houses that were sale yesterday, and I swear one that was for sale today and not yesterday. I decided to ride through one of the little, melting snowdrifts that was 2" deep, and I almost wiped out. Ended up sideswiping a bush, and then I got hollered at because I was hot dogging with the precious little boy in the trailer. The precious little boy who promptly fell asleep right after that.

When we returned (after HannahC got tired - she did quite well considering she has a single speed 16" bike and we were on full-sized mountain bikes with more than 20 gears), I took the tractor out for some glamor shots. I needed a few more shots for the big giant snowblower post that is, from what I hear, my reason for existence in the world. Oh wait, I was supposed to save that story for my super-secret blog. Nevermind.

I've been rationing my Jack Daniel's. I keep forgetting to go buy more. I will run out tonight. I wonder if liquor stores will be closed for Presidents' Day tomorrow. I don't think Abraham Lincoln would have wanted liquor stores closed on his day. He was a partier. But George Washington was a bit of a moralizing fuddy-duddy.

You wanna hear a funny story? Earlier this week, I'm at work, and I realize my underwear is falling down inside my pants. Now, this is a very strange thing, to have your underwear so loose that it is actually falling down inside your pants. It sure as hell wasn't because I've lost so much weight.

So I investigate. Hmmm. These are red, plaid boxers very similar to a pair I have, only these are brighter red. They're also 2" larger in the waist than I would buy. These are not my boxers.

This was something unexpected. Ponder that, if you will. You got up in the morning, put on underwear from your underwear drawer, and then later, at work, discovered it was not your underwear. This is not something you probably have a plan all worked out for in your mind. I thought quite a bit about it.

I figured the only logical explanation was that The Mrs. was having an affair with someone 2" bigger around the waist than I, and that she had accidentally mixed his laundry in with mine. I pondered whether I should run straight home to catch them in the act and thus be able to return the boxers to their rightful owner. But, I decided that this would be a lot of effort, and I'd already worn the underwear for 6 hours, so whatever horrible disease I could catch from them I already had. I completed my day at work.

When I got home, I found The Mrs. and said in a very accusatory tone, "I have a question for you. Whose underwear am I wearing?"

She said, "Shouldn't you be telling me the answer to that?"

Now, looking back on that response, I'm pretty sure she just gave me permission to wear her underwear. I'll try out that theory at a later date.

Oh, and now I'm out of Jack Daniel's.

But, no matter how hard I pressed, she kept sticking with the, "I'm not having an affair, and I don't know whose boxers those are," answer. We've decided that they probably belong to my father, who along with my mother had been visiting for two weeks right before this happened and they had done a lot of laundry. He also happens to be about 2" larger around the waist than I.

So, PopsC, if you lost a pair of red plaid boxers, they were here, and I threw them out.