Susan from New York Writes:
I read your column last week and it seems you got several bags of trash bags for the price of one. What are you complaining about?
Bob writes:
This is true, but what I didn’t mention is what happened when I opened the boxes, the large boxes also contained 15-gallon bags instead of 30. We use these small bags for our baby’s diaper pail, but to use four boxes we’d have to have 10 more kids.
Such a catastrophe reminds me of an incident that occurred about 12 years ago when I almost lost my wedding ring.
The ol’ lady and me lived in Oklahoma at the time. I was going to college and had a sweet job cleaning up a government building. One of my jobs was to collect the Federal documents that needed to be shredded.
It was a smooth operation, I collected trash bins filled with documents that needed to be shredded and then dumped them down this laundry shoot thingy that collected the documents in a big trash bin. When I dumped enough, I would go to the lower level adjacent to the parking garage and put the top on the bin and lock it. Later, these “shredder people” would come in a big truck and take the trash bins away.
So back when we were first married, my wedding ring was loose ‘cause I was so skinny. It fits tight now, but at that time my wedding ring always slipped off. Well, this day I’m dumpin’ shred documents and when I’m done I notice my ring is gone.
It must have slipped off and slid down the shoot I figure. Fearing the impending disaster that would occur if I came home without it, I ran to the lower level to find it. Just my luck the place smelled like manure. Somebody must have really let some demons loose down here I think. After dumping all the paper on the floor and shifting through it for about twenty minutes, I notice my ring on a piece of metal on the trap door of the shoot thingy.
I fiddle with it for a while, but I can’t get it out. And that smell just wouldn’t go away, it was horrible. To this day I can’t figure out how the ring got stuck in there like that, but the solution was simple –I’d have to cut the thin bar and slip my ring out.
So I went to my car, which was parked down the street because I couldn’t afford the parking garage fee, and looked for any tool I might have. With a pair of wire cutters in hand, I took a big breath of fresh air and went back to the lower level to free my ring and save my marriage.
It must have been an hour later and I was still working that thin bar with the wire cutters. I got half way through, my shoulders was tired, the lower level smelled to high heaven, and I was getting pissed. I think some freak must have taken a dump down there.
Fed up with the whole ordeal, I grabbed the bar and pulled and yanked and cussed.
Finally my pulling paid off. The bar didn’t break where I was cutting, but something broke and I flew backwards right into these tanks that was stored there for something.
Anyways, right on the floor next to my right leg was the ring. I slipped it on my finger and gave a sigh of relief, a disaster diverted thanks to my diligence.
Then I heard it.
A hissing sound coming from one of them tanks I fell into. It had a funny smell to it.
I figured I had enough funny smells for one day and left the mess where it stood and went to put my wire cutters back in the car.
I just unlock my car door when an explosion knocks me right on my ass. I look to the Fed building and it’s being blown up. I sit on the pavement and look in wonder for a minute and get in my car and drive home.
I was just trying to save my marriage, but it turned out fate saved my life. Funny, the whole time I was tryin’ to get my ring back, I was totally pissed.
I guess everything happens for a reason.
And now you know.
COMING NEXT: A Texas feast!
