At what point do you say to yourself “I am too old for this shit” and you really are too old for that shit? This weekend I was tested. I said to myself those exact words, and survived. It became obvious that I, in fact, am not old for this shit. So, exactly what kind of shit am I not too old for?
On Saturday I was scheduled to help out with the Larimer County Fair fireworks shoot at the Ranch in Loveland. The weather was to say the least, iffy. ‘Scattered thunderstorms with a 50% chance of storm activity in the area’ was the forecast. By the time the crew assembled at 3pm the sky was quite angry, the clouds were displaying many hews of threatening ugly. Then the operator received a weather alert for a tornado watch, which didn’t expire until 10pm. He was on the phone with the sponsor when we saw a funnel cloud appear over our heads. Then a dust devil grew out of the dirt near the midway and presented itself as a formidable challenge to the snow cone venders, not to mention adding to the excitement of the tilt-a-whirl. Long story short we took off for home with a promise to return tomorrow.
On my way home I noticed that the darkest most threatening cloud looked to be directly in my path, possibly hovering over my home. I called my wife and asked her to look up the weather radar on her ipad and take appropriate measures; the storm looked like a big one. It was raining hard when I drove up and the dark cloud overhead sounded grumpy.
Over the course of the next half an hour we received approximately an ass-load of rain and hail. We watched the carnage from our kitchen window. My lovely wife helplessly watched as her pumpkins, tomatoes, peppers, and such were pounded out of existence. The hail was not large, maybe pocket change size, but it was really determined.
After a while it began to flood. The hail began to float along with the landscaping bark in the flower beds. Then the frozen stew began to migrate towards the corner of the house, the corner where FUBR labs resides in my basement. I went to the lab and found that my basement window was slowly turning into an aquarium. It was kind of a fishless arctic aquarium with gravel on the bottom and floating ice on the top. Oh, and the aquarium leaked.
So began my fight to reclaim the basement from the onslaught of freezing summer water. This involved jumping into an ice aquarium and bailing out the tank, digging a trench, unclogging gutters, raking bark from the lawn, shoveling hail, and hauling around lots of wet towels. For the most part I won the battle; the only causality was about a hundred sq ft of carpet in the guest room. No robots were harmed and the floor to my lab got a good washing.
The next morning we got up and started the process of removing the carpet from the down stair guest room. The first thing that had to be done was get the bed off of the carpet. Ironically the bed is a waterbed, so before I could remove the water logged carpet I had to drain the waterbed. Like a water bed mattress, a water logged carped and carpet pad is unreasonably heavy. It took until early afternoon to expose the bare concrete and mop up the excess water. Then I remembered that I promised to help with the fireworks shoot that was postponed due to the weather that I have been dealing with since I left the shoot site. I am getting too old for this shit.
So I dragged my tired and sore body back out to the Ranch in Loveland to help load guns, wire, and generally prep the show. Around 930pm I remember saying to myself “I am getting too old for this shit.” After the shoot I stayed to check for duds, clear the field, and clean up the racks.
I got home around 11pm.
My lovely wife was asleep, but my puppy Gimli greeted me at the front door. He patiently waited for me to get undressed and climb into bed. Well, he patiently waited for me to take off my sock so he could grab it and run into the bed room. Close enough. It brought a smile to my face, and helped me realize, maybe I am not too old for this shit after all.