Mood:
accident proneTopic: "Unademdaze" (4)
It must have been just a little before lunchtime when the garbage truck flattened Frodo's mailbox. The workers who were in the process of destroying Frodo's kitchen and bathrooms soon gathered in his driveway in order to proffer their suggestions on how best to wreak revenge upon the miscreants. Before they left for home, and prior to Frodo's arrival from Mount Doom, the same workers noted the presence of a liquid on the garage floor. Frodo noted the same, and soon discovered that the water filter he had personally installed 19 years ago had chosen this exact moment in order to deteriorate beyond repair. Frodo quickly changed shoes, and headed directly to the nearest hardware megalith in order to purchase a replacement for the trusty water filter.
Frodo learned that the company which manufactured the all too reliable water filter had gone out of business many moons in the past. Upon examination, it was not evident that any of the other in-stock varieties would satisfactorily meet Frodo's need without exacting measurements. Frodo returned home in his motorcar, but only after experiencing the worst of afternoon traffic. Sam noted Frodo's condition, and strongly suggested that Frodo relax with some bread and a glass of water before returning to the hardware megalith. Frodo promptly spilled water on his trousers.
After changing, Frodo took detailed measurements of the copper tubing and all associated connections. He returned to the hardware megalith, and by arrival time was more than prepared to disassemble the skull of any salesperson who gave him any grief whatsoever. The young man in the orange apron was probably an escapee from final period gym class, because it was quite evident that he had no appreciation or conception of plane geometry. Frodo purchased a replacement water filter without additional carnage and returned home.
In his driveway, Sam was waiting in order to inform Frodo that the plumber was not going to be available until the morrow. In typical Samwise fashion, Frodo was convinced that attempting to remove the old water filter, and to replace it, would take Frodo most of the evening, and would probably result in the destruction of every conceivable inch of water pipe in the hands of an enraged Hobbit.
Then the telephone rang. It was Bilbo, calling to inform Frodo that the inordinately high humidity in Arizona was responsible for a constant state of lethargy. As Frodo stood there dripping from head-to-toe, Bilbo told Frodo that the relative humidity in Arizona at that moment was 15 (not a misprint). Frodo knew that the identical reading at the same moment in the Shire would have been edging into triple figures, so it was extremely difficult for him to retain a sympathetic ear to Bilbo's plight.
Frodo coaxed Mick, the Wonder Dog, to accompany him into the gardens of the Shire, but noted that Mick, the Wonder Dog, was reluctant to follow him. Suddenly, from every conceivable angle, a horde of Tiger Mosquitos performed an acrobatic aeronautical assault on the Hobbit. Not wanting to share the fate of the USS Nevada at Pearl Harbor, Frodo retreated inside in order to receive medical treatment.
Frodo turned on the black-and-white, and promptly was informed that the gallant Braves were getting waxed for the fourth consecutive time in four consecutive games. Frodo retreated to the bedroom, crawled beneath the sheet, and proceeded to lose himself in the Twelfth Century under "The Pillars of the Earth." Once his eyes wearied, he turned off the light and promptly struck the pose of an owl on nighttime patrol.
He must have fallen asleep, because his next memory was of a silent alarm clock with flashing numerals indicating quite some passage of time beyond the sunrise. At least, thought Frodo, it was another day at hand; one, which if one followed the philosophical tendencies of Scarlett O'Hara, would only lead back to Tara. Even days such as that just completed are worth remembering in Frodo's Shire.
