Ruminations of a Red Dirt Hussy

March 18, 2014

Disaster, castrophe, and mishappery

Jesus, Joseph, and Mary! This is spring break! Why am I not breaking? No, no, don’t guess. I’ll tell you why. It’s because disaster, catastrophe, and mishappery follow me like a bunch of homeless puppies.

Disaster 1: I got up this morning and readied a bunch of contest entries to return to the assistant contest chair. I was in my get-this-done mode. Each entry went into its SASE and I alphabetized those babies like nobody’s business. I started to put them all in the box, a box I bought especially for this purpose. And. They. Did. Not. Fit. You know why they didn’t fit? I’m fixing to tell you.

They didn’t fit because not all the SASEs were 9 x 12. Some were 11 x 14. Why? Paper is 8 x 10. Wouldn’t said paper fit into an envelope 9 x 12? Of course it would. So why use an 11 x 14 envelope? Think about it. If you’ve got a size 8 butt, you put it in size 8 pants. So why would anybody put 8 x10 paper in an 11 x 14 envelope?  You might say I should have considered the possibility that some people don’t mind baggy envelopes, but what I say is that the entrants should have considered the fact that I might not consider the vagaries of their envelope choices. I can’t help but wonder if they thought of me at all.

So I went to the post office and yippee! No line. That would’ve been good, but it meant I had to hurry up and get a big giant envelope off the wall and get all that mess into it before the lone clerk took a break. And when I got to the counter, it turned out I had sealed in the big giant envelope not only the entries but also the address of the person I was mailing them to.

Stupid post office.

Disaster 2: I came home to set up the new TV I had to buy because the picture on the old one has been steadily shrinking and is now about the size of a pack of cigarettes. I opened the box and got everything out and discovered I had to assemble the stand. Really? The damned thing can connect to the Internet all by itself, but it can’t come with a put-together stand?

So I went downstairs and got a screwdriver and climbed back up to the 3rd floor and discovered it had to be a Phillips screwdriver. Back down two flights. Got the right tool. Back up. Why are the screws so small? And where are my glasses?

Stupid screws.

I finally got the stand together and looked at the picture and it didn’t look at all like what I had just made. Would it kill them to include a picture of how not to do it?

Stupid Samsung.

So I unassembled and reassembled, and what do you know? No HDMI cable. This is the hell that is my life.

Off to Office Depot. They don’t have the cheap HDMI cable, but it just so happens they had the one that costs twice as much. People in a hurry to go home and screw something else up can’t be choosey, so I bought it.

The cashier said, “Oh, you have a Honda?”


“A Honda. I see your key.”

“Yep. Honda.”

“Accord or Civic?”

Jeeze Louise. “Civic.” And I’m feeling less civil by the minute.

“What year?”

OH MY GOD. IT’S ENDLESS. “2010. Gunmetal gray. Navigation package.”

She gave me my receipt and then she followed me out the door talking. I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP! She and her husband had a Civic but it was a different color and different year and had two doors instead of four and pinstripes but otherwise looked exactly like mine and they traded it in when it had only 53,000 miles and did I know they’ll go 200,000 and then they got a Honda CRV but that was 2012 and the new ones look so much cooler.

This was just one of the many times I was glad I didn’t have a can of lighter fluid and a match. I would have totally torched myself right then and there.

I finally escaped, got home, finished setting the TV up and damn it! The place the new TV was going was unfortunately still full of the old TV, which I couldn’t lift even with a perfectly normal shoulder. Crap. I stomped downstairs to the kitchen for the final act of my three-act disastrophe.

Disaster 3:  What I intended was to make dinner so Jim didn’t have to. Here’s what I actually did.

I made French fries with the French fry maker and put them in the ActiFry. I put the store-bought marinated turkey breast in the oven. Just like that. Easy peasy.

That was so easy I decided to make sweet and sour cabbage.

I found a teeny food chopper thing I didn’t even know I had. I plugged it in and it worked perfectly, as long as I chopped about five leaves at a time. So I got the big food processor, roughly the size of a John Deere tractor, and fifteen minutes later I had it assembled correctly. I stuffed a hunk of cabbage in the tube thing, and everything was fine at first.

Then I heard a clink-clink sound and smelled something burning. A plastic piece of the processor had broken off. Into the cabbage. So I got a hand-grater, and, little-known fact, people with half-assed eye-hand coordination and a bad shoulder should not attempt to use something like that. And by people, I, of course, mean me. Finally, I just chopped the cabbage up with a knife. Got it in the pan. All was well with the world.

Unfortunately, all was less well with the kitchen. Cabbage leaves littered two cabinets and the floor, and a piece of cabbage was stuck in the hand-grater. Two food processors were dirty and one of those was broken. Two dirty plastic cutting mats laid in the sink.

And then, the very worst thing possible. Jim pulled into the driveway.

I did what any sane person would do. I locked the storm door so he’d have to go around to the front and not come through the kitchen. But he had a key. I didn’t even know storm doors had keys. When did that start, and why was I not notified?

Somehow, I got the impression he would rather have cooked the dinner himself.

Stupid cabbage.



  1. Perhaps I’ve been complicit in my own deception, but I feel you have deliberately misled your readers with previous blogs about your mishapperies. You not only know the difference between a standard and a Phillips, but you can also assemble, dismantle, and reassemble things. Sometimes more than one in a day. I am so waiting for your made-up words to appear in the dictionary.


    Comment by Michelle — March 18, 2014 @ 10:52 pm | Reply

  2. Breathe, Breathe, Breathe….what an adventure!!!!


    Comment by Lily — March 18, 2014 @ 10:59 pm | Reply

  3. I thought I was MizzHap since my husband’s name is Hap. But You win. But I am keeping my husband.


    Comment by Pony-tail girl — March 19, 2014 @ 9:35 am | Reply

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