Well, Blow Me Down. Or Up. Whichever.

So, to get right to it, a tire blew up in my pretty, pretty face, and it was more unpleasant than that sentence sounds. I’m telling you this so if you see me in the real world – which, in itself is unlikely – please ignore the cuts and abrasions and stuff on my face.

To make a long stupid story short but still stupid, I’ve been working on my big driveway gate, because reasons. Ugh. Anyway, the thing has two wheels, like wheelbarrow wheel-size that it uses to roll across the driveway when it’s closing. Those tires needed to be inflated and you can see where this is going, right? So, my face, maybe a foot away from a tire filled with nasty-ass water, and unbeknownst to me, dryrotted. Trust me, it’s beknownst to me now. When I started inflating it, it exploded, giving me a face, eyes and mouthful of shrapnel and the aforementioned nasty-ass water – all under high pressure. I’m sure that watching blinded-me trying to drive the tractor back up the driveway to take a Chernobyl-like shower was entertaining to my neighbors.

Anyway, mending the gate. And putting up the pictured “No Trespassing” signs, because lawyers said that’s what I should do. Did I say “because reasons” already? Because. Reasons. I’ve spent no small fortune in Ring cameras, motion-sensing flood lights and stupid signs. This is what my life has become. I will say this, though – dear eight pound, six ounce newborn baby Jesus, thank you for inventing the Garmin dashcam. Next, I need to talk to John Frankenheimer. Wait, he’s dead? OK, Hal Needham. He’s dead, too? Frick.

I guess it hasn’t been all bad, though. Mostly, but not all. I did have a nice bonfire in the backyard, where I not only got rid of downed brush, but I also danced around naked in hopes of changing my fortunes. Spoiler alert: didn’t work. Obviously.

There’s been a little adventure. A return trip to Sewanee, and the Templeton Library, Natural Bridge, Green’s View and other points. That’s always a nice drive, and one of my favorite get-out-of-town road trips. Surprisingly, a lot to see and do for such a small town. Plus, coeds. Hello, ladies.

And speaking of aimless driving in the Wee Small Hours, Lookout Mountain. A great place to just go wander and clear the ol’ squirrel factory when sitting at home for another day is too depressing to think about. Plus, they have a Starbucks. OK, there’s more than Starbucks, but that’s a big friggin’ bonus. Especially one that I can relax at in peace.

In other news, the skid plates for the Jeep will be here tomorrow, and the front tow hooks are shipping today – but that means I doubt they’ll be here in time for me to tinker over the weekend. No matter; I honestly don’t think I can be trapped in the house this weekend. I need to be away. Far, far away. So, that’ll just have to wait until another weekend; not too long, though – the Dragon is officially open for the season, and I need to be there.

Did I say “ugh” already? OK, I stand by it.