Louis Shalako
Tomorrow looks all fucked up, but I am a
mission-oriented person.
I have a plan, not exactly fool-proof. You see, ladies
and gentlemen, I had a flat tire the other day.
That is to say, earlier this morning—
Here's what I said on Facebook.
"This morning, I had fifteen totes full of dough-balls all set to go. The boss was a bit late, so I stepped outside and saw that the right rear tire was flat. I managed to snap the nuts loose...rain coming down. When I tried jacking it up, the jack was headed for China, as the parking lot at the shop is gravel, very soft in the mild conditions. Luckily, I found a short bit of 2" x 6" in the back forty. It made a big difference, jacking the car up rather than forcing the jack down. Once I had the doughnut spare on, I noticed that I still had my step-dad's tire puncture repair kit, and upon examining the tire, I was fortunate to find a hole, still gushing a bit of air. I managed to get the rasp in and out a few times, twisting and turning it to clean up the hole...I also managed to get a plug through the little slot in the end of the tool, and then I managed to get the plug in and the tool out, as it were...locking up the shop after the boss left, I drove across the street and put a buck's worth of air in it. Checking it later, it seems to be holding air. I will check that again--I have a pressure gauge. And then I will need to find a place to change that back."
" I sure as hell can't do it here in our Lake Steeves & Rozema parking lot."
Yeah, so, anyways, the plan for tomorrow goes
something like this: I get up at the crack of dawn, sort of drive the car to a
parking lot somewhere that isn’t flooded, and change that fucking tire back from the doughnut to the real one. And
then, go to the bank, take out money, go across the street, get some fucking
gas and a fucking coffee, and then head down to the smoke shack, get some
fucking smokes for me and the fucking neighbour, and then drive to work, hopefully
on a tire that I repaired myself and one which is, presumably, still holding
pressure.
Wish me luck on that one, but, even driving on that
fucking useless, 80-kph, fucking doughnut spare tire, temporary use only, I
could still make the smoke-shack, the liquor store…maybe even a tire shop. But
honestly, I think it’s fixed.
Oh, yeah, and after all that, I get to go to work, to
make the dough.
But here’s the thing. I can still abort—take Wednesday
off. Go to the dentist appointment first thing Thursday morning sort of thing…wait
for the fucking parking lot to dry out a bit here in this Steeves and Rozema
Residential Apartment Building.
In that sense, I really am kind of my own boss, with a
fair amount of day-to-day latitude.
#superdough
Here I am on fucking
Smashwords.
Thank you for reading.
