June 9, 2013

• You Won’t Need A Thesaurus (edit)

  On the way home from our morning errands, we stopped at a new flea market along the roadside not too far from our little town.  There was a vintage coca cola cooler that I wanted to check out.  I have wanted one of these practically my entire life, but they are usually priced beyond my junkin’ budget. 

  We pulled into the parking lot and I swear there were golden rays of heaven shining down on all its glory.  I had to shoo away the angels to get a closer look at its rusty and worn patina.  Even the lids were still attached, a rarity on these old pieces.  I couldn’t believe the seller was asking so little for it.

  We bought it and then headed home to get the truck.

  When it was delivered, I hopped off the mower and instructed them where I wanted it, right in front of the house, center the windows.  I went back to mowing while the guys unloaded it from the truck.

   

  About half an hour later, I wandered over to my new glorious treasure.

  I happy sighed.

  Then I kind of choked on my breath.

  Wait.

  

  Didn’t this thing have BOTH lids?

  Yes, it did.

  I look in the bed of the truck.

  No, not there.

  I look inside the cooler.

  No, not there.

  I holler to who shall remain anonymous. 

  Well, let’s give him a name, just for the sake of the story.

  Let’s pick some random name, like say,

  Dumb Donkey Butt, or a synonym there of.

  Let’s refer to him as DDB, not to be confused with SJA.

  Anyway, I holler to DDB,

  Didn’t this thing have BOTH lids?

  DDB’s chin dropped to his chest.

  Yes, it did.

  You didn’t secure the lids before you went ripping down the highway, did you?

  No. I am sooooooo sorry.

  I was so angry,
  I just turned around and hopped back on my mower.

  Mowing has always been therapy for me,
  but this is the first time I have ever anger mowed.
  I fought with that mower for two more hours.
  I cannot even begin to tell you how sore my neck and shoulders are right now.

  I would not recommend anger mowing.

  Later, I told him that he is to be buried in that coca cola cooler when his time comes.  I won’t tell you what else I said because it’s kind of gross.  We laughed, DDB called me mean, and all was forgiven.

  But, I think it only fair he massage my neck and shoulders, after he and my son return from scouring the highway ditches for the lid. 

  But seriously, does it not amaze you that this vintage piece managed to stay in one piece for so many years, and literally ten minutes in his possession, he’s ripped it apart?

  Maybe I better get back on that mower a bit longer, my Yosemite Sam is getting riled again.

  

  (edit) Not too long after I hit publish, our truck pulled up into the driveway, my Hunky came bearing gifts. He had found the other lid to the cooler on the opposite side of the road he had been driving. It didn’t even take much of a beating. Unlike my poor muscles. 

  

  • 8:32 am
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