And it's 13 below zero.
Well, at least it's getting warmer.
Phlegm protested a bit, swearing at me briefly by squealing his alternator belt. He then made a passing comment about my heritage before settling in with a disgusted growl.
As I shut the door, I saw the left side mirror flop gently, hanging off beat-up duct tape.
Yeah. That was a Christmas present I gave myself. I think a lump of coat would've been cheaper.
It was the Friday before Christmas. I got to the Bank while the drive-up was still open.
I pulled up to the window. Dawn, the teller, asked me to pull up a little bit more so the drawer wouldn't hurt the car.
Ironic, in retrospect.
So I pull forward and she runs out the drawer.
I threw the car in park, took my foot off the brake, and reached for the check book.
"Missed it by thiiiiiiiis much."
I had almost made it to Park. I had it in Reverse. By taking my foot off the brake, I allowed Phlegm to do what he was being told.
So he backed up.
Into the solid steel drawer.
And circumcised his left side mirror.
Merry honkin' Christmas, eh?
Since the Little-House-On-The-Corner is garage-less and 0 degrees has been a fond memory for a week or so, gluing it back on was out of the question. I had to use the Handy Man's Secret Weapon - duct tape.
So Phlegm now has that droopy-eyed look going for him.
Kind of a Sylvester Stallone thing.
Yeah.
Anyway, it made me realize what was important about Christmas.
Relationships, not things.
Especially relationships that will be slightly strained when things are explained.
But for the time being, for the last two weeks, things are still functional.
I find myself singing that Christmas Carol as I check the traffic behind me.
"Joy to the world,
the duct tape holds . . ."