Tuesday, 04 September 2012
Today is Owen’s first day of second grade. Jennifer took him to school this morning, and I considered picking him up this afternoon…but it’s a good thing I didn’t. I wouldn’t have gotten there on time.
Here’s what happened:
I got in my car after work, and it started up with no problem. I decided to get some gas, which is a good thing to do on a Tuesday, because the local Super America has a “double coupon” policy on Tuesday, so my 10 cents-off-per-gallon coupon morphs into 20 cents-off. So that’s good.
So I filled up my tank with 20 cents-off gas, went in to pay, then went back out and tried to start my car. No dice. My first thought was that I did something stupid like fill it up with diesel. But I didn’t. Then my second thought was: “Hey, this seems like a problem with my battery.” But then my third thought was, “That’s weird, though. How can my battery drain so quickly? I just shut off the car less than ten minutes ago, so even if I left on both the headlights and the stereo, the battery should still be fine.”
Regardless, if my car had gas, then I really don’t know what other sort of trboule-shooting to do other than to jump the battery. In this way, having a car poop out at a gas station is a great thing, because people are coming and going all the time, and the station itself has a decent supply of fluids and parts for a car.
So, I took out my jumper cables, and I asked the guy at a nearby pump if I could use his battery. His pick-up truck was facing nose-to-nose with my Cavalier, so he wouldn’t even need to move his vehicle. He opened his trunk, and we hooked up. Literally.
I tried to start my car, but no luck. So I waited a few more minutes, during which time the good Samaritan revved his engine, and I’m glad he did that, because I hardly ever get to use two V’s in a row, so it’s great to get to type the word “revved.”
So then I tried my car again, and it started.
I bought a new battery this evening. As the receipt in my glove compartment attests, the old battery was purchased in August 2003. With an 84 month warranty, the old chunk of metal lasted 109 months. I guess I can’t complain.
Wednesday, 05 September 2012
Today was the last day of the Strength Training class at work.
I signed up to take the once-a-week workout class back in May. There were two eight-week sessions, and so today was the last session.
Guess what? I forgot to bring my gym shorts. This was the first time I’d forgotten, actually. I considered not going to the class, but then I remembered I’m too cheap to lose out on a class I paid for, so I went with my jeans on. I did have a t-shirt, so at least my top half was workout-ready. A couple of people gave me funny looks, like I’m an idiot for wearing jeans to a workout class. I looked at them back, as if to say, “Yes, I am an idiot for waring jeans to a workout class.”
Other than a slight limit to my range of motion (tight jeans they are not), and a nasty inability to dissapate heat, things worked out just fine. Pun intended.
I’m not gonna sign up for the next eight weeks. With school starting tomorrow (see: tomorrow), I think I will need to start using my lunch hour to read books or write papers. Also, let’s face it, I’m in superb shape as it is.
Thursday, 06 September 2012
I started back at school today. Again.
My professor is a woman I’ve had for a class before. In fact, she recognized me as soon as she walked into the classroom. She’s a ncie lady, a good teacher, and she doesn’t “do” final exams, which is great for two reasons: 1) There is no benefit to having me write non-stop for an hour and a half, other than I just get pissed off, and 2) That’s one less day I’ve gotta leave work early and get to class.
We’re all sitting in a roundtable style. My wife says this is better for the women in the class, as it eliminates a heiracrchical appreance and facilitates group communitcation. I say it’s bad for the men in the class because, for example, when I go to adjust my pants, everyone can see what I’m doing.
Don’t ask me the name of the class, ‘casue I can’t remember. It’s another English class, and all the English classes have names like “Textual studies of criticisms” and “Studying texts critically” and “Critical studying of texts.” So, I don’t know, it’s probably called “Texts are Critical Studies,” or something like that.
Anyway, I’m in class now until early December. If I pull this thing off, I’ll attain 12 credits this year, which is an all-time record for my Hamline career.