Flat Lining and a Flat Tire

April 26, 2020

It was not a good week for tacos.  It was a good week, however, for yarn.  We sold yarn by phone and on the internet.  Of course, we need to sell more, but that's your job.

 

Things did not go well for the taco restaurant.  We could clean the building, turn on the stoves and sell tacos tomorrow, but no, it is not to be.  The owner of the restaurant walked in to the restaurant, maskless I might add, (just sayin’) and announced, “Those are the wrong lights.” 

 

Twenty lights above the seating were installed incorrectly, and according to him now need to be changed.  I showed him the architect’s drawings and instructions.  It didn’t matter, he wanted them changed.  A quick call to the architect quickly escalated to, “Who is going to pay for this?”  My young electrician foreman started packing up his tools while mumbling, “(Construction language) this, I’m out of here.”

 

We will be changing the lights.  Thankfully, beervirus is preventing the restaurant from opening so we have time to make the changes.  Rest assured the tacos will be well lit, when you finally get to buy them.

 

It was a tough week for me personally.  As many of you know, I wear a step counting, heart rating, music playing, “smart” watch.  Recently, I woke up to find my heart rate (according to my watch) had flatlined. Yep, I had no heart rate.  Having never been in this position before, I was not quite sure if I was dead or if the watch was malfunctioning.  Hey, you never know, none of us have ever been dead before.  (Except for a lady that came into the store years ago.  She told a story about having died as a child and her grandmother sent her back from heaven.  She was dead before.  I’m not kidding, and you know what?  I believe her.)

 

Where was I?  Oh yeah, either I was flat lining or my watch was malfunctioning.  Turns out Ivy was able to mess with my watch and the watch was able to detect my heart rate.  At least for a while.  Two days later the watch stopped telling time, detecting heart rate, and worst of all, counting steps.  I can’t tell you why knowing the number of steps walked/ran every day is important, but it is.

 

I have other resources for telling time.  I can always just take my pulse, but I cannot count my steps for an entire day without getting lost and needing to start over.  Luckily, Ivy came to my rescue.  Ivy contacted that Jeff Bozo guy from that river company, and ordered a new watch.  For about two hundred bucks I will never need to keep track of steps myself.  I don’t like that she called Jeff, but the local stores are closed and I need to count my steps.  My watch will be here Monday.

 

A few weeks back Ivy was running a virtual half-marathon.  You might remember I accompanied her on my bicycle while she ran, for support.  Sometime between that day and this past week, the rear tire on my bike blew apart.

 

I was able to take my bike for repair at a local bike shop.  Bike shops are essential, yarn stores are not.  Try not to forget that, but remember Your Daily Fiber is open for carry-out, delivery and will ship if necessary.

 

After my bicycle was repaired, I stored it in Your Daily Fiber.  Looking at my bike every day, (with the store closed) I wondered what it would be like to ride down the aisles.  Don’t do it. It was a perfect storm.  If you can get your shoe loose from your pedal, you might be OK.  If you can’t get unstuck, look for a good place to crash.

 

This beervirus thing is getting the best of people.  At least, it getting the best of me.   I want tacos.

 

Stay healthy, stay safe.  God Bless.

 

The governor is letting stores open next week.  Ivy has read the rules and plans on opening Your Daily Fiber.  Ivy has a mask and disinfectant. 

 

Personally, I think Ivy might be little tired of this quarantine stuff.  She cannot think of ways to entertain herself, like I can.  She has no interest in riding a bike in the store. Her focus is different than mine.  She is more like Elaine when it comes to her entertainment.

 

Let’s get back to normal, whatever that is.   

 

Our crazy lives!

 

 

Monner

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