So, I made a comment about someone the other day that, in the event of the apocolypse*, I wouldn’t want that person with me.** Well, I am clearly not cut out for self-preservation, either. At lunch, I tried to pull my truck out of its parking spot. It would move a couple of inches and then the wheels would just spin and spin on the ice. I pondered what to do while rolling forward and spinning my way back repeatedly until I had to give up and call Biscuit to rescue me. He suggested that I take one of the several bags of sand that I have in the back of my truck and lay a little of that sand down beneath my tires. It, of course, worked like a charm. Since we just used some of that same sand to make our driveway less of a skating rink yesterday, this should have occured to me. There was no excuse for me to sit in the parking lot for fifteen minutes wishing that my situation wasn’t hopeless and that my tires would engage THIS time.
* This comes up pretty often. As one-time readers of sci-fi and fans of the movie genre, we talk about The End of the World in terms of how successful we would be at surviving pretty frequently. Again, we are kind of lame.
** Look at me breaking the be-less-of-an-asshole resolution.
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