Shit!

1.       Monday AM, I drove home from Apache Junction (east of Phoenix) where I attended the annual Super Bowl/Poker Party/Mini-Reunion with my college fraternity bros.  It’s always fun hanging with these guys but it would have been even more fun if I had won my fair share of poker hands.  Just my fair share, mind you.  After losing nearly every hand for several hours, I tossed the cards to one of the guys, told him to keep them.  Had to be the cards’ fault, right?  I grabbed a new deck, but that didn't help.  Same old, same old.  Shit!  Gave away that deck, too.

2.      Tuesday dawned cool, calm and sunny, perfect for outdoor pickleball, players due at my place at 9 AM.  A while back I’d invited the usual suspects – 10 advanced players - to play here on Saturdays and on weekdays when the indoor courts are unavailable.  I put down fresh chalk lines, set up the net, the backstops on the driveway, chairs, about 1.5 hours to do everything.  Nobody showed; I forgot to send out a reminder notice.  Shit!

3.   “Okay.  I’ll run errands instead.”  Had to hit the bank, library, Kmart.  Hopped into the truck, turned the key: clickety, clickety, click.  As Bones said, over and over, on Star Trek, “It’s dead, Jim.”  Shit!

4.     Grabbed my portable jump starter, hooked it up to the pickup battery, hopped into the cab, turned the key: clickety, clickety, click.  Shit!

5.     Trish is out of town so couldn’t jump start from her car.  Shit! 

6.      I plugged the jump starter into an outlet, hoping it would work after charging up awhile. 4 hours later, I hooked it up again, hopped in, turned the key: no clickety, clickety, click.  The engine started.  Something finally went right!  Went to Auto Zone, bought and installed a new battery, stopped at bank, library, Kmart.  Kmart didn't have the stuff I specifically hoped to find there but did have a few things on the grocery list: pickles, bottled water, AA batteries.   

I checked out (“No, I don’t have a rewards card.  No, I don’t want to apply for a rewards card.”) set the grocery bags in the grocery cart, in that raised area near the handle where toddlers can sit, and headed out.  Crash!  One of the bags fell through the toddler leg hole - the bag with the pickles, of course.  Broken glass, pickles and screaming yellow sticky pickle brine everywhere.  This happened directly in front of 3 check-out lines filled with people.  Know what I said when the pickles exploded on the floor?  Loud and clear so everyone in the front of the store could hear me?  You guessed it: “SHIT!!!”

I had more errands to run but decided not to risk it since my daily shit-tolerance level was already well beyond red line.  Time to boogie on home and pour a strong one.