It’s bad when you wake up Monday morning, and you don’t recall what happened the past few days. Now I remember: jack crap.
I don’t even know if jack crap is a phrase socially accepted yet, but it seems more than appropriate now. Regardless, I have the Kenny G cd on, my second cup of coffee in hand, and a VHS recording of Dr. Phil. In a few minutes, I’m going to find the “real Greg”…
I hope this episode of Dr. Phil is entitled, “What the frick do I do when my car battery dies?” That would have been helpful yesterday as I sat in my truck turning the key hoping to get a little more than the dimming lights and whirring car alarm. I don’t know what it is about a battery dying. You know the battery is dead, but you still insist on turning that key once more in case it somehow got more power.
I tried various methods to get more power: shutting off the stereo, dimming the dome lights, and touching the posts on the battery while rubbing a balloon. None worked, but I got a jump about two and a half hours later from the helpful Steve. I had to read the instructions on the jumper cables. I was ashamed. I’ve changed my oil (manually and by driving to Firestone), pulled a radiator, filled the washer fluid, looked at an engine while saying “Mmm, look at that,” but this ‘jumping a car’ thing was new to me. For all I knew yesterday, if the instructions included a step three like “lick battery posts to test charge,” I would have gladly done so. Nothing makes you feel more like a man than reading instructions on a simple car task.