Challenge: When Was The Last Time You Did Something New?

As I (slowly and painfully) approach 79, I thought that I was pretty much finished with “new things.”  Life had other ideas.

I recently tore a tendon in my left shoulder – probably shovelling snow.  I’ve never done that before.
I recently broke a rib – while sitting in my easy chair. I’ve never done that before.
I took the wife to the big, St. Mike’s, downtown hospital in Toronto, first for an endoscopic test, later for a pre-admission appointment, and finally for a difficult endoscopic surgery.  I’ve never done that before.

If I thought that traffic problems on the North-side bypass highway were bad, I ain’t seen nothin’ like the strangely-named, lake-hugging ‘Expressway’ I needed, to reach the hospital.  About the same volume of traffic, but with two or three fewer lanes to carry it in each direction.

It was a gigantic parking lot, sluggishly flowing along like a huge glacier, at barely better than a brisk walking pace – cars and trucks cutting others off, and drivers darting from lane to lane, frantically trying to gain a little space, and time.  I’m surprised that the reported rate of road rage and homicide isn’t higher.  I could see the hospital from the road, but the overhead electronic sign said that estimated arrival time at my exit was still 17 minutes.

That’s where the map program told me to drive six blocks north, and turn left onto Queen Street, where the hospital was located.  When I reached Queen, street signs said that left turns were prohibited.  Instantly, we were lost in a maze of narrow, crowded, one-way, no-turns-allowed, downtown streets, and were half an hour late eventually reaching the hospital.

This entire trip, especially the ‘Expressway’ portion, is not for the inexperienced or faint of heart, and not one that I cared to repeat.  The next “New” thing that the wife and I are going to do, is ride a train.  We have both ridden trains, but that was over half a century ago, shortly after steam engines gave way to diesels.

What will be “New” about it, will be the fact that it will be on a Commuter Train.  Every workday, tens – perhaps hundreds – of thousands of people commute hundreds of miles, from all over Southern Ontario, by means of 12 different rail-routes to go to work in the Big Smoke, using a system called GO-Trains.

The wife and I will use the Kitchener-to-Union Station, Toronto, portion of one of them.  Our Osteopath tried to convince us to use the regular Via Rail service.  ‘There’s more foot and leg room, and the seats are larger and more comfortable.’  And the difference in ticket costs for a one-way, one-passenger ride is, VIA – $89 vs. GO-Train Seniors’ price – $9.  Six trips, times $80/trip savings, totals $480!  For almost $500, I’d ride in a sardine can.  I was born at night – just not LAST night.  Take the GO train – cheap, simple and easy – no fuss, no muss, no expensive gas, no getting lost, no driving stress, no outrageous parking fees.

Assuming that all goes well – and since the best GI endo surgeon in the world, is performing the operation, in the best GI hospital suite in Canada, there’s no reason to assume otherwise – the next ‘New’ thing that the wife and I will try, as a celebration, is to drive to the more-easily and safely reached IKEA store on the near side of Toronto.

We’ll do the tourist thing and people-watch, and have the Swedish meatball lunch, perhaps with a Carlsberg Dark beer, and maybe some lingonberry jam.

Flash Fiction #199

Gazebo

PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields

I’LL HUFF AND I’LL PUFF

What’s this thing supposed to be, IF, and when we get it finished – a Gaze-Bow?? …. gah-zee-boe?

Easy to assemble. Up in minutes. Right!! Like the minutes of the last sales meeting – they weren’t finished till a week later.

Insert strut A into cavity 7. Where’s you get this thing – IKEA??

Aargh! I’ll hold that side down. Do you have any bricks for ballast?

We should have assembled this in the garage, and then just dragged it out.

It’s all your fault. You should have known better than to buy something made by the Big Bad Wolf Tent and Awning Company.

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

Friday Fictioneers

Flash Fiction #36

Maze

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Melanie Greenwood

 

Labyrinth

Does the long rail go on this side??  No, it can’t, the clip doesn’t fit!? Are you sure that this is a water-bed frame?  It’s looking more like a wardrobe.

Take that short piece back off the top.  These assembly instructions are like a maze.  They would be easier to understand if they were written in Urdu.

What’s with these little stick men??….Is that one giving me the finger?

I hurt my back loading this thing in the van.  That’s the last time we buy furniture from IKEA.  Next time, we buy something already assembled, and let Sears deliver it.

 

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

 

Be Kind To One Another…Or I’ll Beat The Snot Outta Ya

drip……drip……drip……drip.

It seems like Chinese water torture.

Drip……Drip……Drip……Drip

Once upon a time, I was liberal, understanding, forgiving.

Drip!……Drip!……Drip!……Drip!

The other day, my wife asked me, “When did you start hating Pakis?”, and, without thinking, I answered her.

DRIP!……DRIP!……DRIP!……DRIP!

A recent study proves that women with higher-than-normal levels of testosterone will not co-operate with others, insist on having their choice/decision acted on, and are wrong in their choices 74% of the time.

(You can make up your own jokes about men and testosterone.)

Actions and attitudes.  There were things in my twenties that I never even noticed, things in my thirties that I noticed, but shrugged off, things in my forties I noticed and they irritated me, things in my fifties that I said, “Why the F**k can’t they be a little more thoughtful?”, about.  Now I’m past my mid-sixties, and, there’s not a day that there isn’t someone I feel should be beaten to death with a shitty diaper.

There ARE colored people who are Niggers.

There ARE Indo-Asians who are Pakis.

There ARE men who are arrogant ass-h**es

There ARE women who are shrewish bitches.

There ARE Muslims who are terrorists.

There ARE Christians who are narrow-minded bigots.

And they’re making life hell for the rest of us.

I went to my supermarket yesterday.  There were two shopping carts stuffed into one of the wheelchair parking spots, the one which is back-to-back with the cart corral.  At least they were right at the top.  A handicapped person could park in the space, carefully, and use one as a walker, as my wife does.  The cart-return kid always thanks me when I move them.  I want to ask him why he doesn’t do it, but he’s got to work on volume.  Get the ones from the corral back to the store first, then worry about stragglers.  He’s a nice kid.  His mother drives down to the store and delivers his lunch.

If you drive away leaving a shopping cart, you’re just lazy, selfish, unthinking, inconsiderate and egotistical.  If, instead of walking a hundred feet across the parking lot and putting the cart in the corral, you walk ninety feet across the parking lot and stuff it in a handicapped spot, I’m going to have to call on BrainRants to define the level of ass-holery being committed.

I backed into a parking spot, in the dark, in a snow storm, and found that someone had left a cart in it.  I know, it’s at least half my fault.  Punched a base-ball sized hole in my light cover, the one which stretches all the way across my trunk lid.  Five hundred dollars from the dealer, only, after a visit and two phone-calls, never got back to me.  Two-hundred and fifty from a scrap dealer,  if you can find one who’ll peel it off an undamaged trunk lid that they can sell for $600.

My son was driving the car one day, and some guy chased him three blocks and  caught him at a stoplight.  Offered to sell him the cover and the two outside lights for a hundred bucks, cash.  Some self-employed entrepreneur who spent $1400 for a trunk spoiler and fancy light cover to doll up the same Impala I can hardly afford to keep on the road.  I happily paid for the privilege of cleaning out his garage.  After we drove for three years with packing tape over the hole to keep water out.

Came out of the same grocery store a couple of weeks ago, just in time to see some 30ish female abandoning a cart in the middle of the same spot.  I BELLOWED at her, “DON’T LEAVE THAT THERE!!  THAT’S A HANDICAPPED SPOT!  I mean, the guy at the strip mall across the street looked over.

Yeah, who are you?

I’M the guy who has to use that spot!

For just a second, I thought that I had made contact, but then the look of entitlement slipped back into place.  She wheeled away and gave me an over-the-shoulder dismissive wave, and a, “Whatever.”  She headed towards my car, which was parked in the next row.  I thought perhaps she had the grey van parked next to me.  I figured on pulling another leave-the-cart ploy, but she walked between the vehicles to a car on the far side.  Oh well!, I walked the cart around and put it in the corral.

I walked back around to head for my car, and met a Paki shoving another cart into the middle of the same spot.  He was already wearing the shitty diaper on his head, so I considered beating him to death with the cart.  Throat was a little raspy, not quite as much volume this time.

DON’T put that there!

Oh no??? (In Paki sing-song)

Oh NO!!

It only took him a few seconds to put it where it belonged.  Why couldn’t he have done that without being yelled at?  Where do all the bad manners come from?  Ikea?  Do they assemble them themselves?  My kids (and grandson) were taught better than that.  He then walked over to the grey van that was parked next to my car and got in.  That’s who owns it.  Damn!  missed out on my chance to play the parking lot abandon-the-cart game.