One of Them Nothingburger Days

Stuff. Just stuff. 

0630: Cosette (cat) wakes us from outside the bedroom door, politely pointing out that it was high time that we got our lazy asses out of bed and started going about the business of the day. First order: her breakfast granola. Plus petting and praising.

0800: Off to Trader Joe's to stock up on survival essentials (booze and meat) before the predicted snow storm hits.

0900: Call Bob Woodrow, aka "Sven Hardwax," to record tomorrow's ski report. Sven lives high in the Cascades with his wife, Inga. Sven herds reindeer. There are no phones up there so he calls his report in via shortwave. Add shortwave radio sound effects to Sven's report.

0940: Report to Desert Orthopedics to have the stitch taken out of the bottom of my heel. See here to learn why, see here to learn how I managed to miss the first appointment for the procedure.

1030: Return home to find that the garage door no longer closes. Upon examination, I find a roller wheel has come out of its track. I place a large garbage can in the center of the entry so Mrs Elliott won't drive in when she returns from wherever she's been and get in the way. I dick around with the door.

1115: I have completely given up trying to sort out the garage door thing without assistance. Mrs Elliott comes home gripes about not being able to pull into the garage. I explain the problem and employ her as a garage door opener-closer button pusher type assistant so I can demonstrate the problem to her and have her cycle the door so I can see if I can figure out a solution.

1116: "I don't have time for this," she says, "I have people coming over to talk about the web site. You'll have to deal with it."

1117: I called a garage door repair guy. He doesn't have time to come over, but explains how to get the wheel back into the track.

1118 to 1218: Steel tools, like socket wrenches, chilled to subzero temperatures are rough on the hands. But I get the wheel back in the track.

1219: The door opens smoothly.

1220: The door will not close. It moves a few inches then retreats.

1225: Cosette explains that it is high time for lunch.

1523: Mrs Elliott is done with her people, has time to punch the button a few more times while I eyeball the situation again. I can find nothing wrong.

1524: "Call someone," she suggests.

1525: A guy at a different garage door company says that no one is available to help repair the thing there, either, but has me check the little photo-sensing thingies that prevent the door from crushing children. One is blinking red. It's aligned with the other one, they can see each other, but it blinks red. "Hold the button and the door will override the sensors and close," he says. And it does, and it closes. "We'll get someone out tomorrow."

1540: The script for the show needs to be finished, the timing calculated, the final audio bits to be organized. Cosette lays on keyboard.

1541 - 1555: Play with cat. Pet her, praise her, show her that it's too cold to go outside (like 8 degrees out there). She sniffs at the air coming in the open door, shakes herself, goes back to her former activity of laying on my keyboard.

After that, the day is a blur. This might have something to do with one of the bottles of wine I got at Trader Joe's.