It happened. I caved.
No, dear readers, I did not do anything extremely rash; I still haven't seen a Twilight film, begun a pilates workout, or started using the term "bro" on a regular basis. I did, however, turn on the furnace at my home. With temperatures expected to dip below the freezing point of our most basic beverage this week and my thermostat already reading a somewhat brisk 60 degrees when I arrived home from work today, I figured it might be time to take the plunge. After all, a friend put in an awful lot of working making sure that all the ductwork would be completed in time for my house to close, so it would probably be rude not to give the heater a run. (That's what I'll tell myself to avoid extreme guilt, anyway.)
The good news is that the furnace works without faults (that I'm aware of... I'm obviously no heating-and-air specialist. I can barely spell HVAC). As I sit typing this Writing, the furnace hums to keep my home at a comfortable 64 degrees (hey, propane ain't free). Life, it's good.
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Of course, even good days have challenges. One such hiccup presented itself on Saturday. Alas, deeming the issue "hiccup" is a fairly kind gesture. If that's the case, it was certainly the loudest hiccup that I've ever heard.
Saturday marked my first ever opportunity to mow the lawn at my new house. (Don't worry, someday I'll quit referring to it as "new." That's a promise to you... Also, someday I'll avoid immature rhymes like that one. One step at a time...) The mowing marathon was one that taught many lessons.
Lesson #1 - My yard is anything but flat.
Lesson #2 - I'm unbelievably out of shape.
Lesson #3 - Lawnmower blades are no match for the metal water meters that one might find embedded in his or her lawn.
Lesson #4 - Oops.
Yes, I rendered my mower useless by allowing the whirling blade to strike the water meter. The results? An unbelievably loud clang, a mower that quit running immediately, a semi-loud utterance of something the author should not make a habit of saying in public, and a blade mangled in the sort of way my hand might be if I stuck it in my garbage disposal. Good times.
After attempts to fix said blade proved futile (What do I even own you for, hammer and pliers? Weak effort on your part.), I had to run to my parents' home to kidnap my dad's lawnmower to finish my lawn's inaugural buzzcut. Luckily for me, at no point did my dad's mower attempt to escape and call the mower abuse hotline.
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The mower incident was pretty frustrating and served as yet another bit of proof that I should not be allowed to have nice things, but all was nearly forgotten later that day. Good football can have that effect.
Yes, the Kansas State Wildcats are off to their best start on the gridiron since 1999, and all of the success has come with nary a mention on The Writings. In the past, I've made a point to provide some sort of coverage and/or analysis and/or lame jokes (okay, mostly lame jokes) concerning Wildcat football, but this year I've lagged.
Inexcusable.
It's Sunflower Showdown week, meaning that Saturday Bill Snyder and the crew have the opportunity to declare KU's home Bill Snyder Vacation Home Stadium and push their record to 7-0 before facing a national powerhouse in Oklahoma. Come Hell or high water... err, I mean, come broken furnaces or spirit-possessed-mowers-seeking-revenge, this team is going to finally get some love from The Writings.
Stay tuned. (Or whatever the blog-following equivalent of staying tuned might be.)
No, dear readers, I did not do anything extremely rash; I still haven't seen a Twilight film, begun a pilates workout, or started using the term "bro" on a regular basis. I did, however, turn on the furnace at my home. With temperatures expected to dip below the freezing point of our most basic beverage this week and my thermostat already reading a somewhat brisk 60 degrees when I arrived home from work today, I figured it might be time to take the plunge. After all, a friend put in an awful lot of working making sure that all the ductwork would be completed in time for my house to close, so it would probably be rude not to give the heater a run. (That's what I'll tell myself to avoid extreme guilt, anyway.)
The good news is that the furnace works without faults (that I'm aware of... I'm obviously no heating-and-air specialist. I can barely spell HVAC). As I sit typing this Writing, the furnace hums to keep my home at a comfortable 64 degrees (hey, propane ain't free). Life, it's good.
-----
Of course, even good days have challenges. One such hiccup presented itself on Saturday. Alas, deeming the issue "hiccup" is a fairly kind gesture. If that's the case, it was certainly the loudest hiccup that I've ever heard.
Saturday marked my first ever opportunity to mow the lawn at my new house. (Don't worry, someday I'll quit referring to it as "new." That's a promise to you... Also, someday I'll avoid immature rhymes like that one. One step at a time...) The mowing marathon was one that taught many lessons.
Lesson #1 - My yard is anything but flat.
Lesson #2 - I'm unbelievably out of shape.
Lesson #3 - Lawnmower blades are no match for the metal water meters that one might find embedded in his or her lawn.
Lesson #4 - Oops.
Yes, I rendered my mower useless by allowing the whirling blade to strike the water meter. The results? An unbelievably loud clang, a mower that quit running immediately, a semi-loud utterance of something the author should not make a habit of saying in public, and a blade mangled in the sort of way my hand might be if I stuck it in my garbage disposal. Good times.
After attempts to fix said blade proved futile (What do I even own you for, hammer and pliers? Weak effort on your part.), I had to run to my parents' home to kidnap my dad's lawnmower to finish my lawn's inaugural buzzcut. Luckily for me, at no point did my dad's mower attempt to escape and call the mower abuse hotline.
-----
The mower incident was pretty frustrating and served as yet another bit of proof that I should not be allowed to have nice things, but all was nearly forgotten later that day. Good football can have that effect.
Yes, the Kansas State Wildcats are off to their best start on the gridiron since 1999, and all of the success has come with nary a mention on The Writings. In the past, I've made a point to provide some sort of coverage and/or analysis and/or lame jokes (okay, mostly lame jokes) concerning Wildcat football, but this year I've lagged.
Inexcusable.
It's Sunflower Showdown week, meaning that Saturday Bill Snyder and the crew have the opportunity to declare KU's home Bill Snyder Vacation Home Stadium and push their record to 7-0 before facing a national powerhouse in Oklahoma. Come Hell or high water... err, I mean, come broken furnaces or spirit-possessed-mowers-seeking-revenge, this team is going to finally get some love from The Writings.
Stay tuned. (Or whatever the blog-following equivalent of staying tuned might be.)
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