Oh my holy shit. Monday, July 21, 2008PSA: A trashcan full of empty boxes and a bike parked at the right angle so the sun hits the bike reflector can ignite a fire. OUTSIDE YOUR FRONT DOOR.
Then in your awesomely half dressed state (because you just emerged from the shower) you can throw open said door to find a cop yelling at you to shut the door while he extinguishes the fire. Then still not wearing a bra and with wet hair you can be asked a million questions by the cops and fireman (who were actually really nice and helpful) determine that it was a freak accident (once they rule out that you are neither a smoker, pyromaniac or crazy).
Things that were ruined by the fire: trashcan, bike tire (hopefully not the rim or anything else), lawn chair, snow shovel and a couple of my tomato plants.
This is just another in a random set of things that have sucked balls, including getting food poisoning on Friday night possibly from something I ate on the scenic railway beer train (cost: $25). Really, as if it wasn't bad enough they ran out of beer 20 minutes into a 2 hour ride and their "local appetizers" were tiny cubes of very non-local cheese, ritz crackers and a bag of pretzels; but then 6 hours later I'm spending copious amounts of time hunched over my toliet. That is like kicking someone in the ass after they've already fallen down because you tripped them and then stealing $25 from their wallet.
Previously, on things that blow: my iBook keyboard started malfunctioning. Several of the keys died and while it is an easy fix the nearest Apple Genius Bar is 1.5 hours away. So last Saturday I drove to Columbus to get it fixed, except that once I reached Columbus' 270 outerbelt I hit a freaking box spring at 70 miles an hour. There was a giant truck right in front of me that swerved to miss it, but since I couldn't see why it swerved until about 3 seconds later there was nothing I could do. I was boxed in, and slamming on my breaks would have only caused the guy behind me to ram into my back end.
So like something out of Dukes of Hazard I just drove right over top of it. Killing it dead.
Luckily it didn't seem to hurt my car, but really it's an experience I could of lived without.
Seems I'm not the only one having a rough go of July, the wonderfully witty and awesome Jemima seems to be in the same boat as I am.
Post Script: Cleaning up hot, smoked, half-burned rotting garbage is horribly horrific. Oh my god, the smell. I had to shower after I picked it up, I felt like that awful smell was clinging to my skin and hair.