(What the kids did comes at about 2:04. Thanks, by the way, Mr. Deitch, for such a fine visual to use with my post.)
I got a call from Michelle shortly before 5 pm yesterday. When I picked up the phone, she was using that voice that meant she was mad. Mad. I was quickly relieved to find out I was not the one she was mad about. But then I, also, had to put on the mad face.
The boys broke the recliner. As far as we can tell, the ten-year-old tried to catapult the five-year-old off the chair. Something went snappo. This morning, I tried to fix it. Not being an expert on recliner repair, I gave up quickly after putting just a single screw back in place. I didn't want to risk breaking anything else.
Now, I know we didn't just suffer an earthquake or have to dig any loved ones out of the rubble. Relatively speaking, this is a non-disaster. So don't get all preachy on me.
It'll cost us, at least at this point, $65 to fix. The part, inexplicably, was still under warranty, even after I explained how the chair got broken in the first place. That tells me this is a labor-intensive job and that the part, while all metally and complicated, is cheap to manufacture. Oh well. At least that's a sop the furniture store can throw our way. I'll take whatever sop I can get at this point. And since the boys broke the chair, they're going to pay for it through their allowance money. Too bad. They were so close to getting that Lego "Jungle Cutter." Whatever that is.
I'm just tired of thing breaking. Earlier this week I sat in my desk chair at home and one of the wheels went snap. What else is going to happen? I just hope I don't break the chair I'm sitting in now -- one of the little chairs from the kids' writing table. It sits about a foot off the ground, so I'm squatting at the keyboard right now, typing like a madman.
This is, by the way, my 1,000th post. Not an auspicious one by any means, but still it's a meaningless round-number milestone that must be marked with some kind of celebration. So I might go make a quesadilla for lunch.
Indy and Harry
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We're heavily into many things at our house, as is the case with many
houses. So here are the fruits of many hours spent with Harry Potter and
Indiana Jone...
Here at the End of All Things
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And another book blog is complete.
Oh, Louis Untermeyer includes a final collection of little bits -- several
pages of insults -- but they're nothing I hav...
Here at the End of All Things
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I’ve pondered this entry for a while now. Thought about recapping my
favorite Cokesbury Party Blog moments. Holding a contest to see which book
to roast he...
History of Joseph Smith, by His Mother, by Lucy Mack Smith. 354 pages.
History of Pirates, A: Blood and Thunder on the High Seas, by Nigel Cawthorne. 240 pages.
Peanuts by the Decade, the 1970s; by Charles Schulz. 490 pages
Star Bird Calypso's Run, by Robert Schultz. 267 pages.
There's Treasure Everywhere, by Bill Watterson. 173 pages.
Read in 2024
Blue Lotus, The, by Herge. 62 pages.
Diary of A Wimpy Kid: Big Shot, by Jeff Kinney. 217 pages.
Edward R. Murrow and the Birth of Broadcast Journalism, by Bob Edwards. 174 pages.
Forgotten 500, The; by Gregory A. Freeman. 313 pages.
I Must Say: My Life as A Humble Comedy Legend, by Martin Short and David Kamp; 321 pages.
Number Go Up, by Zeke Faux. 280 pages.
Red Rackham's Treasure, by Herge. 62 pages.
Secret of the Unicorn, The; by Herge. 62 pages.
Sonderberg Case, The; by Elie Wiesel. 178 pages.
Tintin in Tibet, by Herge. 62 pages.
Ze Page Total: 1,735.
The Best Part
Kerplunk! by Patrick F. McManus
Admittedly, I myself was getting a little tired of the advances in technology. It used to be that all the different kinds of wackos sat out in their little isolated cabins or apartments somewhere. Each went through an entire lifetime without seeing another wacko of his particular ilk. Now a wacko can get on the Internet and find the other nine wackos in the world who are just like him.
McManus goes on to say they get to gether to decide what to blow up, but given the Unabomer lived in an isolated cabin as a Luddite and still managed to blow things up, there's a little flaw in McManus' logic. Nevertheless, I see where he's going with this.
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