Friday evening, the Beloved and I went to dinner and a play with several friends. We had a very nice evening. And then the woman whose life the play was based upon died.

During intermission, while I was in an insanely long bathroom line (why don’t theatre’s and other public venues have more women’s restrooms than men’s?), I started making my Saturday List in my head.

Wanna know the typical Saturday to-do-list ambitions? I’m gonna tell you anyway.  My Saturday list included:

  • Run at the park
  • Go to my toy store and purchase a water filter for the refrigerator and a USB hub
  • Go to Central Market for fresh mushrooms, sushi grade tuna, and a few other specialty items
  • Pick up Molly’s meds at the vet office
  • Go to Kroger for Sprite, Lean Cuisine’s and I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter butter spray
  • Pick up some grass shears from another toy store
  • Bake some oatmeal pecan cookies for the new neighbors
  • Wash the darks
  • Clean the bathrooms
  • De-doghair the stairway
  • Weed the front yard
  • Till the flower beds
  • Mow the front grass patches

Well, come Saturday morning, I got in the car to leave, put the key in the ignition and turned it. And Nothing. Not a light. Not a gurgle. Not a cough. Nothing. My head nearly went into a dammit-I’m-not-going-accomplish-anything-today, but then I remembered. I remembered the day when I went to buy the flagstones and my engine wouldn’t turn and and some really nice guys jumped the car for me so I could get to the auto supply store where another really nice guy installed the battery for me.  And I remember watching him and listening as he talked about contacts and currents and important car things.

So that’s when I decided to check under the hood. I’ll admit, it took me a while to figure out how to open it (I kept opening the trunk).  And what’s with the baby locks?!  They’re totally unnecessary considering the hood is so heavy!  But once I found that magic pushy buttony thing, I lifted it and secured it with that rod thingy sorta like the one that holds up the top on my baby grand piano.

I was so proud of myself for accomplishing THIS! I kept peeking over the hood, looking to the driveway, just in case anyone out in the street was walking by, there to notice my success. I mean, this was a big friggin’ deal and I wanted someone else to be impressed that I got the hood open. I thought I heard a shuffling, maybe our resident homeless man pushing his grocery cart. Maybe HE would see me. But no, it was just the guy across the street cranking his lawnmower – and I wasn’t even in his viewing area. Oh well.

So there I was, looking at the battery, and I noticed the (-) contact thing was a bit loose. Which then gave the opportunity to open my tool box and, after another quick peek for fans over the hood, I tightened the nut. Success! Started right up.

Went along my list, doing my thing, marking things off. Up until the mowing of the grass. There I was with the weedeater (the ‘yard’ is very very small), and I smell a yummy burning smell and look down, and there is smoke emitting from the area where the extension cord goes in. This had happened to a lesser degree the last time I did the lawn, too. So not wanting to be electrocuted, I put the thing on the ground and unplugged it. Both the weedeater and the extension cord were black with burn marks and the motor was still smoking. And I still wasn’t done with the yard.

So, and I’m really not upset about this, I had to go back to the Home Depot to buy a new weedeater. And oh my goodness, I got a GAS POWERED one. And for a moment? For a moment, I felt an immediate connection with My People, generations upon generations of day laborers willing to do the work that other people don’t want to do.