Monday, August 23, 2004
Some people are natural born gardeners. They love the feel of soil in their hands and spend hours outdoors lovingly planting, weeding and cultivating their gardens. Then there are people like me. I love a pretty garden as much as anyone, however, it's the hours outdoors tending to the gardens that I find increasingly more distasteful. Now don't get me wrong, I like picking out flowers and planting them and I even enjoy the planning process of a new garden. It's the constant upkeep I seem to have the most trouble with.
Just a couple of weeks ago, I was sitting outside talking to my son and gazing out into our backyard. I have already given up tackling the garden by the pool house since the Mother of all weeds insists on overtaking the area despite my best efforts. Besides, I found out the hard way that I was highly allergic to something in that garden and spent several itchy, oozing weeks recovering from our last encounter. So, completely ignoring the pool house area, I slowly looked around at the fish pond garden and the sidewalk garden. Granted I don't weed on a weekly basis, but where the heck did all those tall, nasty looking weeds come from. I could have sworn that just days before none of them had reared their ugly heads so someone, somehow, must have planted them there when I wasn't looking. OK, OK, maybe they were there all the time and I just chose to overlook them but in any case, now that I had noticed them I couldn't pretend they weren't there.
As Monday, my only day off during the week, dawned sunny and relatively cooler than the normal for this time of year, I resolutely headed out to deal with the weeds. Armed with all the modern gardening tools, hands gloved for protection, I decided to attack the sidewalk garden first. As I stood surveying the area, I wondered what had happened to the flowers that I was almost sure I had planted just a couple of months ago. Deciding there was no easy way around it, I attacked the first clump of grass and began yanking with all the enthusiasm I could muster. I've never understood how grass can grow so well in a flower garden without having been purposely planted there. I dug and tugged and swore for several hours, stopping only for a few gulps of cold water and to wipe the sweat from my brow. After what seemed an eternity, I stepped back to check my progress. Thinking I surely must have covered the majority of the garden, I was astonished to realize that I had barely covered the first two feet. And worst of all, I was pretty certain I could already see the beginnings of the newest crop of weeds trying to poke through.
With renewed vigor I continued on to finish not only the sidewalk garden but the fish pond garden as well. I had some thoughts of doing the front gardens but as Clint Eastwood says "You've got to know your limitations". Knowing my limitations, I called it a day and went in to enjoy a cooling, refreshing shower and wash the weed residue off my skin. Sitting on our deck that evening, I was proud of my day's work and certain I had survived untouched. Yeah, sure.
Barely twenty-four hours later, the first itchy bumps appeared on my right arm, followed by one large, oozing blister. Not too bad what with all the weeds I had pulled but none the less a little disconcerting since I hadn't touched anything I hadn't pulled a million times before. Just to be on the safe side, I immediately jumped into the jacuzzi, followed by another vigorous shower in an effort to completely wash away any remnants of weed resin. I have always read that allergic reactions to plants come from contact with the plant resin and once washed away, the allergic reaction will not be spread by the water from the blisters. Well, either those people are wrong or I am a medical anomaly because once that blister started ooozing, more and more itchy bumps appeared until I, once again, looked like I had been in a cat fight and the cat won!
After two weeks of itching, oozing and explaining my obvious wounds to everyone who noticed, I have planted something new in my garden. Looking out into my backyard you will see a white flag prominently placed for all the Weed Witches to see. I surrender!! I have finally concluded that not only am I allergic to some weeds, I am also allergic to the act of weeding. Just the thought of putting on gardening gloves makes my skin begin to prickle. So perhaps I'll just cautiously trim the large clumps of weeds that have already grown in place of their relatives I so casually pulled out. Animal shapes would be nice...maybe a rabbit or a turtle. Or just maybe I'll take my husband's approach to weeding. Now where did he put that Weed Whacker?
Just a couple of weeks ago, I was sitting outside talking to my son and gazing out into our backyard. I have already given up tackling the garden by the pool house since the Mother of all weeds insists on overtaking the area despite my best efforts. Besides, I found out the hard way that I was highly allergic to something in that garden and spent several itchy, oozing weeks recovering from our last encounter. So, completely ignoring the pool house area, I slowly looked around at the fish pond garden and the sidewalk garden. Granted I don't weed on a weekly basis, but where the heck did all those tall, nasty looking weeds come from. I could have sworn that just days before none of them had reared their ugly heads so someone, somehow, must have planted them there when I wasn't looking. OK, OK, maybe they were there all the time and I just chose to overlook them but in any case, now that I had noticed them I couldn't pretend they weren't there.
As Monday, my only day off during the week, dawned sunny and relatively cooler than the normal for this time of year, I resolutely headed out to deal with the weeds. Armed with all the modern gardening tools, hands gloved for protection, I decided to attack the sidewalk garden first. As I stood surveying the area, I wondered what had happened to the flowers that I was almost sure I had planted just a couple of months ago. Deciding there was no easy way around it, I attacked the first clump of grass and began yanking with all the enthusiasm I could muster. I've never understood how grass can grow so well in a flower garden without having been purposely planted there. I dug and tugged and swore for several hours, stopping only for a few gulps of cold water and to wipe the sweat from my brow. After what seemed an eternity, I stepped back to check my progress. Thinking I surely must have covered the majority of the garden, I was astonished to realize that I had barely covered the first two feet. And worst of all, I was pretty certain I could already see the beginnings of the newest crop of weeds trying to poke through.
With renewed vigor I continued on to finish not only the sidewalk garden but the fish pond garden as well. I had some thoughts of doing the front gardens but as Clint Eastwood says "You've got to know your limitations". Knowing my limitations, I called it a day and went in to enjoy a cooling, refreshing shower and wash the weed residue off my skin. Sitting on our deck that evening, I was proud of my day's work and certain I had survived untouched. Yeah, sure.
Barely twenty-four hours later, the first itchy bumps appeared on my right arm, followed by one large, oozing blister. Not too bad what with all the weeds I had pulled but none the less a little disconcerting since I hadn't touched anything I hadn't pulled a million times before. Just to be on the safe side, I immediately jumped into the jacuzzi, followed by another vigorous shower in an effort to completely wash away any remnants of weed resin. I have always read that allergic reactions to plants come from contact with the plant resin and once washed away, the allergic reaction will not be spread by the water from the blisters. Well, either those people are wrong or I am a medical anomaly because once that blister started ooozing, more and more itchy bumps appeared until I, once again, looked like I had been in a cat fight and the cat won!
After two weeks of itching, oozing and explaining my obvious wounds to everyone who noticed, I have planted something new in my garden. Looking out into my backyard you will see a white flag prominently placed for all the Weed Witches to see. I surrender!! I have finally concluded that not only am I allergic to some weeds, I am also allergic to the act of weeding. Just the thought of putting on gardening gloves makes my skin begin to prickle. So perhaps I'll just cautiously trim the large clumps of weeds that have already grown in place of their relatives I so casually pulled out. Animal shapes would be nice...maybe a rabbit or a turtle. Or just maybe I'll take my husband's approach to weeding. Now where did he put that Weed Whacker?
Monday, August 16, 2004
Who ticked off Mother Nature?? So far this year we've had the ciccada invasion, floods, tornadoes and hurricane threats here on the east coast. Watching Hurricane Charley head for the Tampa area last week I suddenly realized how much I stood to lose if it hit there. Almost my entire family lives in the Clearwater and Palm Harbor area and they seemed to have a big red target painted on them for a while. Although thankful my family's area was spared, my heart goes out to the friends and familiy of all those in the Punta Gorda and surrounding areas devastated by Charley. Having had an up-close and personal visit by Hurricane Isabel last year, I can only imagine the countless hours and untold expense that will be involved in the cleanup and restoration of the affected areas of Florida.
Although I have many family members in the Tampa area, none are native born Floridians. My sister and her husband transplanted about 8 years ago from Baltimore, to be followed by my parents several years later and my sister Carolyn from Maine not too long ago. I've spent many wonderful visits with my sister Nancy who began the family love affair with the area and can easily understand what drew them there. I've found the Palm Harbor area to be beautiful and one of the most relaxing places I've ever been, so much so that we just 2 months ago purchased our own home not far from the rest of the family. In spite of the "Murphy's Law" weekend I recently spent in Florida, I always look forward to returning and already have plans for the Labor Day weekend in Palm Harbor. So I followed Charley's progress with trepidation, hoping he would change direction and praying for whoever he chose as his victim.
Friday was spent listening to the updates, making calls to family and crossing every available body part in some small effort to stay connected to those in peril. My family in Florida all congregated at my parents' home, animals in tow, and waited for the worst. Sitting here in Maryland I felt powerless to help and paced endlessly, mentally sending my thoughts to my family. The possible loss of property was not much of a concern since houses can be rebuilt and possessions replaced. But the injury or loss of any of my family members was as monumental a concept as I've ever faced. Watching Charley's determined progress, I constantly consulted the maps to see how close he was getting and when he made the sudden turn into shore I finally exhaled in relief. The video from Punta Gorda is heart-wrenching to watch and knowing it could have just as easily been the Clearwater and Palm Harbor area is almost inconceivable.
Phone calls to my parents and Nancy finally convinced me that everyone, though tired and stressed, made it through the day and were preparing to return to their own homes. Never have I been so happy to hear the voices of my family members and to know that all was well. Even as Charley continued to threaten our area of the east coast, I felt in my heart that we would all survive the experience intact and with a much greater appreciation for the people in our lives.
I have always believed that a sense of humor is an essential part of life and even with Charley's threatening presence, I called Nancy to apologize for the hex I unknowingly brought to Florida on my last visit. The problems with my air conditioner, telephone, modem and rental car coupled with my parents air conditioning unit breaking down last week and Charley bearing down on Florida seemed much more than just a string of bad coincidences. In a small attempt to inject a bit of humor I asked Nancy if perhaps Murphy's first name might just be Charley. Now with the sun shining and the threat past, I'm thinking our next visit in September will again be beautiful and relaxing and spending time with my family is at the top of the agenda.
Although I have many family members in the Tampa area, none are native born Floridians. My sister and her husband transplanted about 8 years ago from Baltimore, to be followed by my parents several years later and my sister Carolyn from Maine not too long ago. I've spent many wonderful visits with my sister Nancy who began the family love affair with the area and can easily understand what drew them there. I've found the Palm Harbor area to be beautiful and one of the most relaxing places I've ever been, so much so that we just 2 months ago purchased our own home not far from the rest of the family. In spite of the "Murphy's Law" weekend I recently spent in Florida, I always look forward to returning and already have plans for the Labor Day weekend in Palm Harbor. So I followed Charley's progress with trepidation, hoping he would change direction and praying for whoever he chose as his victim.
Friday was spent listening to the updates, making calls to family and crossing every available body part in some small effort to stay connected to those in peril. My family in Florida all congregated at my parents' home, animals in tow, and waited for the worst. Sitting here in Maryland I felt powerless to help and paced endlessly, mentally sending my thoughts to my family. The possible loss of property was not much of a concern since houses can be rebuilt and possessions replaced. But the injury or loss of any of my family members was as monumental a concept as I've ever faced. Watching Charley's determined progress, I constantly consulted the maps to see how close he was getting and when he made the sudden turn into shore I finally exhaled in relief. The video from Punta Gorda is heart-wrenching to watch and knowing it could have just as easily been the Clearwater and Palm Harbor area is almost inconceivable.
Phone calls to my parents and Nancy finally convinced me that everyone, though tired and stressed, made it through the day and were preparing to return to their own homes. Never have I been so happy to hear the voices of my family members and to know that all was well. Even as Charley continued to threaten our area of the east coast, I felt in my heart that we would all survive the experience intact and with a much greater appreciation for the people in our lives.
I have always believed that a sense of humor is an essential part of life and even with Charley's threatening presence, I called Nancy to apologize for the hex I unknowingly brought to Florida on my last visit. The problems with my air conditioner, telephone, modem and rental car coupled with my parents air conditioning unit breaking down last week and Charley bearing down on Florida seemed much more than just a string of bad coincidences. In a small attempt to inject a bit of humor I asked Nancy if perhaps Murphy's first name might just be Charley. Now with the sun shining and the threat past, I'm thinking our next visit in September will again be beautiful and relaxing and spending time with my family is at the top of the agenda.
Saturday, August 07, 2004
There are many types of vacations....there are beach vacations, skiing vacations, cruise vacations...and then there are Murphy's Law vacations. Whoever this Murphy person might be, he apparently came up with this profound pronouncement, possibly based on his own life experiences, that whatever could go wrong would go wrong. Sure we all have days where this law applies but until you've spent four entire days in Murphy's world, you can't begin to understand what he was talking about.
It all began innocently enough with plans to spend four relaxing days at our new home in Palm Harbor Florida with my oldest daughter and her four year old son. Maybe I should have been a little more wary when, due to a power outage the night before, my alarm clock failed to go off at the appointed hour and I was shaken awake by my husband telling me it was already 6:15 a.m. Knowing my daughter was due to pick me up in 15 minutes, I hurriedly dressed, turned on my curling iron and grabbed a quick cup of coffee to wash away the cobwebs in my brain. I was still trying to coax some shape into my hair and cramming the last makeup items in my suitcase when my daughter arrived. We finally headed off to the airport about 30 minutes behind schedule but with plenty of time to make our 9 a.m. flight. Parking in the long term lot, we wrestled our suitcases out of the car and made our way to the shuttle stop. Now normally you barely have time to set your stuff down before the bus pulls up, but in keeping with the morning's theme, the bus took almost a half hour to arrive. Rushing into the airport, we checked in and ran for the gate dragging this four year old along at an unwilling pace. We managed to make it to the gate with minutes to spare before they started boarding. We settled into our seats and, taking a deep breath, looked forward to our trip.
The flight was smooth and uneventful and we landed in Tampa to be greeted by sunshine and clear skies. We stopped by the Hertz counter, picked up the keys to our rental car and headed out to the lot. OK so the child seat being on top of the car instead of inside was annoying, it took my daughter only a couple of minutes to unwrap and install the seat and we were on our way. Driving across the causeway was beautiful as always and we arrived at the house in good time. I unlocked the door, expecting to be greeted with a rush of cool air since we had had the air conditioner replaced in June. The rush of air was more like a pizza oven than a freezer and I immediately began checking breakers. Checking the unit itself, there was the sound of the fan running but no reassuring sound of the condenser kicking in. Houston, we have a problem. I went back into the house and picked up the phone which had been turned on the day before. Instead of the hum of a dial tone, all I could hear was loud static and the barest echo of a dial tone. Cellphone to the rescue. Deciding the air conditioner was more important than the phone, I called the AC people and they agreed to send out a serviceman that afternoon. Fifteen minuts after his arrival, he came back into the house shaking his head. Apparently the new unit had a leak which was why we had replaced the old one in the first place!! Since it was a warranty situation, they would turn it over to the company that handled the warranty work and it would get fixed the next day. The serviceman recharged the unit to get us through the night and making sure the office had my cell number, we called Pizza Hut and settled in for the evening.
Just because the air conditioner was leaking, the phone wasn't working right and the cable stubbornly refused to come on for well over an hour, it still hadn't occurred to me that Murphy might be lurking somewhere close by.
We left the house early the next day and spent a wonderful day at my sister's, lounging out by the pool and relaxing. I had even begun to regain my sense of humor when as my brother-in-law opened the door to greet us, I smiled and politely asked "Could I borrow a cup of air conditioning please?". Since I received no calls from the AC company, I naturally assumed that they had taken care of the leaking unit and saying goodnight to Nancy and Harlan we headed back home around 8 p.m. I had heard the expression "Hotter than the hinges of Hell" but had never felt it until I opened the door to my house that evening. The thermostat was straining to burst out of its box at 95 plus degrees, and after checking around, I was fairly certain our repairman had not shown up. As my daughter and grandson camped out on the lanai since it was much cooler outside than in, I spent a restless night, hot physically and emotionally, resisting the urge to leave a blistering message on the answering machine of the repair company at 2 a.m. Finally at 7:15 I called the company and they promised to have someone out by 9:30. True to their word, the repairman arrived, fixed the leak and apologizing for our problems, wished us a good weekend. We lounged in the cool air, ignored the phone issue and contemplated what to do that day.
Finally summoning up a little energy after very little sleep the night before, we went off to visit with my parents for a while and then stopped by Nancy's again. Nancy's husband Harlan wasn't feeling well and had begun to break out in a mysterious itchy red rash so after a quick dip in the pool for my grandson, we hopped in the car. I waved to Nancy standing at her door, turned the ignition key and...CLICK!!! Trying it again I was met with absolutely nothing. Nancy grabbed her phone to call AAA and we trudged back through her door to wait. Although the situation was anything but humorous, I walked through Nancy's door shaking my head and laughing out loud. OK Murphy, where are you hiding?? AAA started the car and we drove home. Needless to say, after all the events of the past few days, I was a little hesitant when I opened the door to my house. Thankfully we were greeted by cool air and all seemed right with the world again. Just a string of bad coincidences and the rest of the weekend would be fine. Uh-huh sure.
Sunday dawned gray and rainy and noone was in a hurry to do much of anything. My grandson apparently was engrossed in a marathon cartoon-watching contest so I began connecting the computer Nancy had dropped off intending to spend the afternoon surfing the net. The phone connection had cleared considerably after the heat was out of the house so I was optimistic as I sat down to play. After several hours and many mumbled curses, the stubborn machine still refused to admit that it had a modem much less let it connect so I admitted defeat and turned the blasted thing off. Nancy stopped by and gave it the good old college try, and even though it used to be her computer, the machine was defiant. My other sister Carol came by and we decided to just sit and talk as it seemed the least frustrating activity of my vacation. After my sisters left, we pried my grandson away from the TV and went in search of a restaurant. We found a Perkins which fit the need and after a good meal, we got back into the car. I turned the key.....and.......CLICK!!! By now I was certain that even though I hadn't seen him, Murphy had somehow invaded this vacation and was lurking somewhere enjoying my frustration.
I called Hertz roadside assistance and after about an hour, the serviceman arrived and jump started the car again. As he told me I ought to think about trading it in for a different rental, I assured him that though I had thought about that, it wouldn't make much sense now since we were leaving the next day at noon. Besides, it seemed to start fine in the driveway and as long as I didn't to turn it off again, we should get to the airport OK. Obviously Murphy had one last joke up his sleeve.
Feeling a sense of caution, we packed up early the next morning and locked up the house at 8:45 a.m. Plenty of time for the drive to Tampa and our noon flight. I got in, inserted the key and....Damn it Murphy!!! The stupid vehicle didn't even give me the courtesy of a Click this time. Grabbing my cellphone I called Hertz again, barely containing my mounting anger, and was assured help would arrive in less than 45 minutes. Repeating that I had a noon flight and time was of the essence, we settled back to wait. Watching the minutes tick by, I waited an hour before I called Hertz again. They assured me the man was only 10 minutes away and I agreed to wait. Meanwhile, my neighbors had seen us standing outside all this time, and concerned something was wrong, came over to offer assistance. Bob offered a ride, another man ran home to get jumper cables and others just offered sympathy. Despite the neighbor's efforts, the car refused to start and making my final call to Hertz, I accepted the neighbor's offer of a ride as I told Hertz where they could find their vehicle so they could tow it in. Due to the heroic efforts of our neighbor Bob, we arrived at the Tampa airport at 11:30 a.m., quickly checked in and, ending the trip as it began, arrived breathlessly at the gate with minutes to spare before boarding started.
Although I wouldn't want to think that Murphy may have tagged along with my daughter and grandson, having spent much time in Florida without mishap, I found myself wondering. Just to be on the safe side, I have decided that until further notice, noone under the age of 55 will be allowed at the Florida house. After all, it IS an over-55 park. Besides, knowing I have such good and helpful neighbors makes me even more positive we chose the right house to buy. Take that Murphy!!
It all began innocently enough with plans to spend four relaxing days at our new home in Palm Harbor Florida with my oldest daughter and her four year old son. Maybe I should have been a little more wary when, due to a power outage the night before, my alarm clock failed to go off at the appointed hour and I was shaken awake by my husband telling me it was already 6:15 a.m. Knowing my daughter was due to pick me up in 15 minutes, I hurriedly dressed, turned on my curling iron and grabbed a quick cup of coffee to wash away the cobwebs in my brain. I was still trying to coax some shape into my hair and cramming the last makeup items in my suitcase when my daughter arrived. We finally headed off to the airport about 30 minutes behind schedule but with plenty of time to make our 9 a.m. flight. Parking in the long term lot, we wrestled our suitcases out of the car and made our way to the shuttle stop. Now normally you barely have time to set your stuff down before the bus pulls up, but in keeping with the morning's theme, the bus took almost a half hour to arrive. Rushing into the airport, we checked in and ran for the gate dragging this four year old along at an unwilling pace. We managed to make it to the gate with minutes to spare before they started boarding. We settled into our seats and, taking a deep breath, looked forward to our trip.
The flight was smooth and uneventful and we landed in Tampa to be greeted by sunshine and clear skies. We stopped by the Hertz counter, picked up the keys to our rental car and headed out to the lot. OK so the child seat being on top of the car instead of inside was annoying, it took my daughter only a couple of minutes to unwrap and install the seat and we were on our way. Driving across the causeway was beautiful as always and we arrived at the house in good time. I unlocked the door, expecting to be greeted with a rush of cool air since we had had the air conditioner replaced in June. The rush of air was more like a pizza oven than a freezer and I immediately began checking breakers. Checking the unit itself, there was the sound of the fan running but no reassuring sound of the condenser kicking in. Houston, we have a problem. I went back into the house and picked up the phone which had been turned on the day before. Instead of the hum of a dial tone, all I could hear was loud static and the barest echo of a dial tone. Cellphone to the rescue. Deciding the air conditioner was more important than the phone, I called the AC people and they agreed to send out a serviceman that afternoon. Fifteen minuts after his arrival, he came back into the house shaking his head. Apparently the new unit had a leak which was why we had replaced the old one in the first place!! Since it was a warranty situation, they would turn it over to the company that handled the warranty work and it would get fixed the next day. The serviceman recharged the unit to get us through the night and making sure the office had my cell number, we called Pizza Hut and settled in for the evening.
Just because the air conditioner was leaking, the phone wasn't working right and the cable stubbornly refused to come on for well over an hour, it still hadn't occurred to me that Murphy might be lurking somewhere close by.
We left the house early the next day and spent a wonderful day at my sister's, lounging out by the pool and relaxing. I had even begun to regain my sense of humor when as my brother-in-law opened the door to greet us, I smiled and politely asked "Could I borrow a cup of air conditioning please?". Since I received no calls from the AC company, I naturally assumed that they had taken care of the leaking unit and saying goodnight to Nancy and Harlan we headed back home around 8 p.m. I had heard the expression "Hotter than the hinges of Hell" but had never felt it until I opened the door to my house that evening. The thermostat was straining to burst out of its box at 95 plus degrees, and after checking around, I was fairly certain our repairman had not shown up. As my daughter and grandson camped out on the lanai since it was much cooler outside than in, I spent a restless night, hot physically and emotionally, resisting the urge to leave a blistering message on the answering machine of the repair company at 2 a.m. Finally at 7:15 I called the company and they promised to have someone out by 9:30. True to their word, the repairman arrived, fixed the leak and apologizing for our problems, wished us a good weekend. We lounged in the cool air, ignored the phone issue and contemplated what to do that day.
Finally summoning up a little energy after very little sleep the night before, we went off to visit with my parents for a while and then stopped by Nancy's again. Nancy's husband Harlan wasn't feeling well and had begun to break out in a mysterious itchy red rash so after a quick dip in the pool for my grandson, we hopped in the car. I waved to Nancy standing at her door, turned the ignition key and...CLICK!!! Trying it again I was met with absolutely nothing. Nancy grabbed her phone to call AAA and we trudged back through her door to wait. Although the situation was anything but humorous, I walked through Nancy's door shaking my head and laughing out loud. OK Murphy, where are you hiding?? AAA started the car and we drove home. Needless to say, after all the events of the past few days, I was a little hesitant when I opened the door to my house. Thankfully we were greeted by cool air and all seemed right with the world again. Just a string of bad coincidences and the rest of the weekend would be fine. Uh-huh sure.
Sunday dawned gray and rainy and noone was in a hurry to do much of anything. My grandson apparently was engrossed in a marathon cartoon-watching contest so I began connecting the computer Nancy had dropped off intending to spend the afternoon surfing the net. The phone connection had cleared considerably after the heat was out of the house so I was optimistic as I sat down to play. After several hours and many mumbled curses, the stubborn machine still refused to admit that it had a modem much less let it connect so I admitted defeat and turned the blasted thing off. Nancy stopped by and gave it the good old college try, and even though it used to be her computer, the machine was defiant. My other sister Carol came by and we decided to just sit and talk as it seemed the least frustrating activity of my vacation. After my sisters left, we pried my grandson away from the TV and went in search of a restaurant. We found a Perkins which fit the need and after a good meal, we got back into the car. I turned the key.....and.......CLICK!!! By now I was certain that even though I hadn't seen him, Murphy had somehow invaded this vacation and was lurking somewhere enjoying my frustration.
I called Hertz roadside assistance and after about an hour, the serviceman arrived and jump started the car again. As he told me I ought to think about trading it in for a different rental, I assured him that though I had thought about that, it wouldn't make much sense now since we were leaving the next day at noon. Besides, it seemed to start fine in the driveway and as long as I didn't to turn it off again, we should get to the airport OK. Obviously Murphy had one last joke up his sleeve.
Feeling a sense of caution, we packed up early the next morning and locked up the house at 8:45 a.m. Plenty of time for the drive to Tampa and our noon flight. I got in, inserted the key and....Damn it Murphy!!! The stupid vehicle didn't even give me the courtesy of a Click this time. Grabbing my cellphone I called Hertz again, barely containing my mounting anger, and was assured help would arrive in less than 45 minutes. Repeating that I had a noon flight and time was of the essence, we settled back to wait. Watching the minutes tick by, I waited an hour before I called Hertz again. They assured me the man was only 10 minutes away and I agreed to wait. Meanwhile, my neighbors had seen us standing outside all this time, and concerned something was wrong, came over to offer assistance. Bob offered a ride, another man ran home to get jumper cables and others just offered sympathy. Despite the neighbor's efforts, the car refused to start and making my final call to Hertz, I accepted the neighbor's offer of a ride as I told Hertz where they could find their vehicle so they could tow it in. Due to the heroic efforts of our neighbor Bob, we arrived at the Tampa airport at 11:30 a.m., quickly checked in and, ending the trip as it began, arrived breathlessly at the gate with minutes to spare before boarding started.
Although I wouldn't want to think that Murphy may have tagged along with my daughter and grandson, having spent much time in Florida without mishap, I found myself wondering. Just to be on the safe side, I have decided that until further notice, noone under the age of 55 will be allowed at the Florida house. After all, it IS an over-55 park. Besides, knowing I have such good and helpful neighbors makes me even more positive we chose the right house to buy. Take that Murphy!!
