I could get used to not having to go to work. I had to go to Matthew’s house today because we were having the burglar alarm fitted, and I got there half an hour early. Rather than make the tenants put up with me for half an hour (which I’d be pissed off with if I were the tenant), I thought I’d go and get some brekky. So I went to the shops across the road, and got a custard tart and a latte to go, and sat in the park across the road from the house, so I’d be able to see if the alarm guy turned up. It was lovely sitting in the park - just a perfect morning, and I thought how wonderful it would be if I could spend every morning doing this, not having to be anywhere, and just being able to have a lazy coffee and cake in the park. Bliss.
I also discovered today that I think it would be cool to be a mechanic. I had to pick up some gravel while I was with the alarm guy, so I put the 2 buckets of it into the boot. When I left, I forgot that they were there, and took rather a sharp turn. I then heard the sound of spilling gravel.
Bugger.
I thought it might not be too bad (’maybe a bit just spilled over the top?’ I thought hopefully), and made a mental note to check the boot when I got to work. Unfortunately, both buckets had tipped over, spilling half the contents of each all over the boot. I ineffectually scooped a couple of handsful of gravel back into the buckets, then, realising it would take a bloody long time to clean it up that way, resigned myself to having to do it when I got home.
I got out the dustpan when I got home, cleaned out the other crap that was in the boot, and started scooping. It didn’t take long to sweep up most of the gravel, but then I saw that a whole lot fell under the carpety stuff in the boot, and around the spare tyre. So I had to delve where I’ve never had to delve before, and take out the spare tyre. So that was all cool, and I must say that I did a pretty good job of getting all the gravel (I wouldn’t ordinarily have tried quite so hard, but it wasn’t mine, and I’m told it was damn expensive). While I was putting the tyre back, and screwing in the little thingy (Technical Term) that holds it in place, I thought, “This is really cool. I like pulling my car apart!” And so I thought that I’d probably enjoy being a mechanic.
How sad that doing such a pissy thing (which everyone knows how to do anyway) would make me think of being a mechanic. Like all they do is take spare tyres out of people’s boots, sweep up some gravel, and put them back again.
