March 13, 1992
Dear Everyone:
One thing leads to another.
Sunday morning, I went into the kitchen, pulled
something from the refrigerator, and stood there with that "what's wrong
with this picture?" feeling until it finally came to me:
It was warm.
The item from the refrigerator
was warm.
Not cold.
I listened for that reassuring hum that you never
really hear until it's gone, the sound of the fridge grumbling to
itself.
Silence.
I checked the freezer.
The stuff in the freezer was
cold, but mushy.
As in thawed.
My fridge had died in the night.
I decided on a course of action:
1)
Eat something; 2) Take a
shower and dress; 3) Drive to
“Jeannie’s” and get my Fix-It Book, which she had borrowed.
The Fix-It Book was helpful in
that it identified what the owner could fix and what required a service
person. I decided that I didn't
feel up to tackling even the things that I
might be able to do myself
(assuming I could figure out what they were), certainly not on a Sunday
morning.
A perusal of the Yellow Pages produced
several repair services that
would, indeed, come to your home on a Sunday and fixed the broken
fridge. And, in fact, once the
repair person had determined the cause, a faulty defrost timer and
thermostat control, it took him less than an hour to replace them.
(The Fix-It Book
did allow me to understand what the repair man was talking about.)
While I was waiting for him to get the fridge going
again, I neatened up the mess of mail on the dining table.
Which is how I came across the
announcement from Emporium that a sale on mattresses and box springs
would end the next day.
Now, about a year ago, I happened to notice a
distinct sag in the middle of
the mattress on my bed. At the
time, I muttered, "Really! That
thing’s supposed to be guaranteed for 15 years."
Then I started thinking back to
when I originally bought it. About
15-17 years ago. So, I vowed that
the next time someone had a sale, I'd get a new bed.
Disregarding the fact that I'd just spent $263.48
getting the refrigerator fixed, my shopping consultant (“Jeannie”) and I
set out for Emporium. (I needed
to get some more of my makeup, anyway.) Just
over $1000 (and about 20 min.) later, I had ordered a top-of-the-line
Simmons set to be delivered in two weeks.
I figure, if you're going to spend one-third of your life in
bed, get the best you can afford. Besides,
it was on sale.
In other news…
I have a new toy.
I've gotten rather bored with my stationary bicycle, pedaling
away, going nowhere (9410 miles as the crow flies).
And “Jeannie” had pointed out to
me that if you keep doing just one kind of exercise, your body sort of
gets used to it and ignores it. I
needed a new form of exercise.
Enter The Easy Glider©.
You've probably seen it
advertised on TV. Svelte Size 3
in skin-tight leotards stroking away with a big, goofy grin on her face.
She's having the time of her
life, isn't she? Buy our product
and you'll look just like her. Right.
The Easy Glider came in a rather heavy cardboard
box (some assembly required), in approximately 92 separate pieces, minus
the all-important Vaseline jelly for the wheels, with a 22 page
instruction book, including the 21 steps to put the thing together.
It turned out to be remarkably easy to
construct--all the holes matched and the screws fit the holes.
The trickiest part was the
tension belt, which has to go around the belt guide, wrap around the
skate back axle, weave through the zigzag slots, wrap around, over,
under, through, etc. Piece of
cake for anyone who has ever successfully threaded a sewing machine.
In all, it took me a little more
than an hour to put the whole thing together.
Then I tried it out.
The Easy Glider "simulates cross-country skiing"
quite realistically, at least to the extent that the moment you step
onto it, your feet zip! out from under you, in opposite directions.
There are ski poles for you to
hang on to for dear life as you try to get your feedback together,
whereupon they zip! out from
under you in the other direction.
This is good. This
is, more or less, what you're supposed to be doing, although the
instruction book presupposes a little more grace and control.
But this will come with time and
practice getting your feet to zip! back and forth in the manner prescribed.
You continue doing this until the muscles in your
legs and feet start sending a message ("we would recommend that you
cease this activity sometime in the very near future") by means of
electrochemical impulses which travel along neural pathways to special
receptors in the brain.
These receptors interpret this message as
searing pain, the body's way
of saying: "Stop it!
Stop it!
Just stop it
RIGHT NOW!!!"
And then it's time for a relaxing bath, a little
television, and falling into bed with a pleasant feeling of complete and
total exhaustion.
Of course this has only been the first week.
Love, as always,
Pete
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