I freely admit that I have very little aptitude for the immediately practical. Fortunately, I’m married to a first-grade teacher, so I’m covered. Mrs. Mondo has been a blessing in very difficult times (including the aftermath of my parents’ deaths, where she took care of business while I was still paralyzed by grief and shock.) I’ve often said that if Eisenhower had first-grade teachers on his general staff, D-Day would have happened by 1943 and come in under budget.
Today provided a fine example of all this. As I mentioned in the previous post, the snow had knocked out our satellite by filling the dish on our roof. Mrs. M suggested we use the leaf blower to clear the dish, and sent me out to the garage to fetch the blower and an extension cord.
I usually make an adequate beast of burden, but this time I apparently wasn’t up to the challenge. I don’t know if it was my hands being numb, the awkward balance of the leaf blower, or my own innate clumsiness (all three of these qualities were abundant), but I dropped the blower as I was getting it off the pegboard and it shattered on the concrete floor of the garage. Harsh language was administered, but the blower’s housing, handles and nozzle did not magically unshatter.
I poked at the dish with a rake, but my success was limited. Mrs. M tried the rake while leaning out an upper-story window, but her efforts failed as well, mitigated only by the fact that she transported a sizable amount of snow from the roof to my head as I stood on the sidewalk below. Next, she suggested we try the garden hose, but by this time the outdoor faucet wouldn’t turn — frozen in place. Ever resourceful, Mrs. M fetched several tubs of hot water, leaned out the upper-story window that was involved in the rake/avalanche incident, and flung the water (a glassful at a time) about 10 feet until the dish was clear, and that’s how I’m listening to Little Steven’s Underground Garage right now.
But I still owe Mrs. Mondo a new leaf blower.