03/09/03's illustrious band:

Mechanic in a Can

Brought to you by an interesting weekend at Sensational Acres. The Chinese having a saying that goes, "May you live in interesting times." It's considered a curse.

I made the radical decision on Thursday to skip my usual marathon of classes at the T'ai Chi studio on Saturday. It had been a long time since I experienced Saturday as a leisurely weekend day without five hours of martial arts, so I was looking forward to sleeping in and lounging around in my jammies all day. But I started paying the price for this break in routine almost immediately.

To start the weekend off with a bang, my garage door bit the dust on Friday afternoon. Actually, it did just the opposite; the ancient rails are so warped that the door could no longer make its final descent, and it's stuck in the gaping open position. I've known for a long time that this day was coming. I had just hoped it would come sometime after I got my tax refund.

And now I know exactly what I'll be doing with a substantial chunk of that pesky little windfall, too. A Saturday morning trip to Home Despot (after the planned lie-in) netted me an order for a new garage door with rails and a request to have it delivered and installed. This means that sometime during the coming week, an HD garage door installation professional will do a drive-by to assess the work site, make sure I ordered a door that will fit my garage, and determine whether anything out of the ordinary will be required. Once his curiosity is satisfied, the order for the door will be confirmed. And then, a week or two after that, the installation will get done. We hope. Meanwhile, my garage appears to have the hem of its skirt stuck in its waistband.

So home I trudged to a driveway full of snow. I seemed to be the only kid on the block not running a snowblower. In a fit of spring idiocy, I failed to drain the gas from my blower last April, leaving the fuel to turn sludgy in the tank over the summer and autumn. I knew I needed to pump the tank and refill it with good gas and carburetor cleaner, so I headed to the hardware store for supplies and advice. It's the kind of hardware store where they recognize returning customers and spend a few minutes sympathizing over whatever problem sent you through their doors. I wish I could have bought the garage door there, but they don't sell 'em. Anyway, I took my hand pump, fresh gas, fresh oil and a product known as Mechanic in a Can (brand name: Seafoam) back to the Acres to see if I could resurrect the blower.

Step 1: Siphon old gas out using the hand pump. Well, that didn't work, but I managed to dribble a few ounces of gas on my boots. So I picked up the blower bodily -- a small model, fortunately -- and dumped the gas toward the old-gas can. I say "toward" because I attempted this maneuver without a funnel, dribbling quite a bit of gas on my boots and mittens.

Step 2: Refill tank with oil/gas mixture and a generous dose of Mechanic in a Can. I managed the pouring without incident. But after pressing the starter button as many times as I dared, I had to concede defeat. The blower will not start. I carried it out to the shed to join its idle brethren, spilling more gas onto my parka. I'll have to call the hardware store Monday morning.

Step 3: Shovel driveway the old-fashioned way.

Step 4: Do a load of laundry.

Meantime, the garage door is wide-flaming-open, leaving my lawn tools and machinery on display for the whole neighborhood to see.

Well, not any more; I spent a while Saturday night moving the mower and my bike into the shed (Hiding! Don't tell anybody!) and hauling grubby shovels and rakes into the kitchen, along with my prized hammock and miscellaneous other whatnots. The kitchen? Yep, that's as far as I could get the stuff without tracking snow and muck through the whole house. Then I spent another while shifting everything from the kitchen to the spare bedroom, and another vacuuming and mopping dirt and slush from the kitchen. Finally I gave it a rest and watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Best part of the day.

So that's how I spent my fun Saturday off. And I learned my lesson. When the alarm rang Sunday morning, I vaulted out of bed and hustled off to my jujutsu class right on time.

E-mail the Media Sensation: jugglernaut@hotmail.com