Out of Sorts

I've been out of luck, out of time and out of money, but the worst is being out of sorts. I mean when you don't have any sorts you're in real trouble and that has been exactly my condition for the past several days. The thing that caused my sorts to run and hide was not having the morning time to write a blog. I have, as you may have noticed, been blogless for several days. Bloglessness leads to sortlessness which in turn leads to disgruntledness and grousing. Fortunately, as you can see, I have found my sorts and fended off the personality change my daughters claim is to curmudgeonness.

And speaking of personality changes, one occurred to me while watching last night's lunar eclipse. As interesting as it was from our human point of view, I had to wonder how it affected the poor werewolf. "What the hell? Am I changing? Changing back No, wait, I'm half changed, I'm... somebody's screwing with me." Must have been very traumatic.

With help from our friend Randy, we got our new washer/dryer on line yesterday and also managed to change a few light bulbs. What, you think changing light bulbs is easy? These babies were inside a fixture that wouldn't give them up. It took a man with years of experience to figure out how to free them and, you guessed right, that guy wasn't me. We replaced the bulbs with those new energy saving, "last forever" types and then put the fixture back together. I suspect that last forever might be a slight exaggeration for the bulbs, but if they hang in there until after we move again, it will be close enough to forever to suit me.

The washer/dryer part didn't go as smoothly. The first obstacle occurred the day before when we brought it back from Daveed (specialK says I have to pronounce David that way or it sounds weird) in Alan's truck and unloaded it in front of our house. It was at that point that Alan and I realized the large cardboard box that had been loaded into his truck bed weighed approximately, oh, I don't know, say a thousand pounds. More than we could lift anyway. I called another friend, Larry to come and help. And did he ever. After pushing and pulling on the box for a bit, he said, "I know exactly what to do." Then he left. Which, of course is what I wanted to do, but damn, it was my washer/dryer. Larry returned though, in a matter of minutes and brought with him four Panamanian construction workers built like NFL linebackers. They picked up the appliance and carried it to the back of the house where it will now live until we move again. Nice. And my back doesn't hurt a bit. The next day, Randy and I hooked up the w/d. Okay, Randy did, but I helped.

So there you have it. I get by with a little help from my friends. Thank you, Alan, Larry and Randy for returning my sorts. I was lost without them.