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Close to Nowhere By Linda Jones Mama said there’d be days like this • You know those kinds of days that nothing goes quite right? Seems like I’ve run into a slew of them lately. My
new printer at home messed up and I could not fix it -- and I waited
several weeks before going online to “chat” with a service rep about
the problem. He prescribed a new print head and shipped one right out
and “voila” I can print again. Then a program I
use for just about everything went bonkers. It took my computer genius
son several days and much hair (pulling his hair out...) to get that
fixed. My sewing machine has quit sewing
backwards and won’t make buttonholes. It’s time for a service visit
anyway, but some days, you really need to sew backwards! Saturday,
I borrowed the work van and drove to Heber Springs to pick up a new
bunkbed for Meredith’s room. The van is large, my car is small, the van
sucks gas, my car sips... Other than backing it up though, it’s easy to
drive and comfortable, so the trip was nice. The visit at my niece’s house was, as always, very enjoyable and we beat the snow home. We made it home in good time and the girls made rapid work out of unloading the bed. After
a couple major arguments with Meredith, who has never put anything
together before, but was just positive she knew more than I did, we got
the bottom part of the bed assembled. Funny, though, it looked like it was missing something. Hummm.... Seems
like the bottom futon part of the bed is supported by steel railings.
Those same steel railings, after a bit of panicked investigation, were
discovered behind the garage door. At my niece’s house. In Heber Springs. Oh well. She’ll just have to come see me next weekend. What a hardship. Meredith
did say that she has taken all the black railings we do have and she
has turned them into a prison system for her bedroom. Somehow, that just seems appropriate. • We’re awaiting the arrival of a new horse at our house. Meredith is getting a black and white paint saddle horse that is the softest horse I’ve ever touched. Marion Pryor named him “Mr. Whipple” because you can’t call a boy horse “Charmin.” It made me feel really, really old to have to explain to Mere, Remy and Grace about Mr. Whipple and Charmin. “Mama said there’d be days like this...”
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