Friday, January 06, 2006
High Entropy Living |7:47 PM| I ran out of gas today. I've done this only twice before in my life. Once was because I had run out of money and was "kiting" bills, food, and gas. You can't "kite" the juice that runs your car. I ran out just as I reached the parking lot at work.
The second time was because I was rushing around town, pressing my luck, trying to get as many things ready for a movie as possible. I ran out of luck and fuel, luckily very close to a gas station.
This time I was late getting out the door, and I skipped getting gas so I could get to work earlier than my start time. Too bad I ran out of gas 2 blocks before reaching the gas station. The bum asking for change at the intersection helpfully walked away and sat down in the median on the other side from my car. True, had he offered his help pushing my car I would have waved him away, but it's the thought that counts, you leach on soceity.
Anyhow, despite my best efforts pushing the car down the hill I did not build up enough momentum to get UP the following hill, and into the gas station. Which brings me to the high entropy part of this story. I was using a small gas can to fill my tank, when the cap began leaking. I pulled the gas can away from the car, and the nozzle popped out of the fuel door with enough spring to launch gasoline all over my hands and hair.
None on my clothing. All in my hair. Goddammit. A shirt I could take off, I wasn't about to shave my head. Oh, and thanks to my run down the hill pushing a car, I was breathing hard, and the fumes started irritating my lungs. Coughing gas fumes just blows.
Hacking, wheezing, and reeking of petrol, I drove home and showered until I stopped smelling like a refinery.
That's when I got the call to help my folks load up my sisters stuff in her car, as she was going back to school. My father and I struggled for some time to buckle the TV set into the back of my sister's two door civic.
Me: "Are you using the right buckle?"
Dad: "Yes."
Me: "So you're not using the middle buckle? Because it won't work with the side seatbelt. "
Dad: *fumbling* "No. Neither work."
Me: "May I see?"
I took the seatbelt and began futzing with it. Truly, it would not "click". At one point it snapped out of my hand, and retracted into the frame of the car. "Funny." I thought. "That seatbelt is mounted awfully far forward. OH WELL."
After a few more moments, my dad points out that we've been using the front seatbelts. The forehead slapping could have powered warships.
My sister commented that almost every situation that involves me gets so much more complicated. Hey, at least I solve all the problems that I caused from solving the intial problem. Eventually.
High Entropy Living |7:47 PM| I ran out of gas today. I've done this only twice before in my life. Once was because I had run out of money and was "kiting" bills, food, and gas. You can't "kite" the juice that runs your car. I ran out just as I reached the parking lot at work.
The second time was because I was rushing around town, pressing my luck, trying to get as many things ready for a movie as possible. I ran out of luck and fuel, luckily very close to a gas station.
This time I was late getting out the door, and I skipped getting gas so I could get to work earlier than my start time. Too bad I ran out of gas 2 blocks before reaching the gas station. The bum asking for change at the intersection helpfully walked away and sat down in the median on the other side from my car. True, had he offered his help pushing my car I would have waved him away, but it's the thought that counts, you leach on soceity.
Anyhow, despite my best efforts pushing the car down the hill I did not build up enough momentum to get UP the following hill, and into the gas station. Which brings me to the high entropy part of this story. I was using a small gas can to fill my tank, when the cap began leaking. I pulled the gas can away from the car, and the nozzle popped out of the fuel door with enough spring to launch gasoline all over my hands and hair.
None on my clothing. All in my hair. Goddammit. A shirt I could take off, I wasn't about to shave my head. Oh, and thanks to my run down the hill pushing a car, I was breathing hard, and the fumes started irritating my lungs. Coughing gas fumes just blows.
Hacking, wheezing, and reeking of petrol, I drove home and showered until I stopped smelling like a refinery.
That's when I got the call to help my folks load up my sisters stuff in her car, as she was going back to school. My father and I struggled for some time to buckle the TV set into the back of my sister's two door civic.
Me: "Are you using the right buckle?"
Dad: "Yes."
Me: "So you're not using the middle buckle? Because it won't work with the side seatbelt. "
Dad: *fumbling* "No. Neither work."
Me: "May I see?"
I took the seatbelt and began futzing with it. Truly, it would not "click". At one point it snapped out of my hand, and retracted into the frame of the car. "Funny." I thought. "That seatbelt is mounted awfully far forward. OH WELL."
After a few more moments, my dad points out that we've been using the front seatbelts. The forehead slapping could have powered warships.
My sister commented that almost every situation that involves me gets so much more complicated. Hey, at least I solve all the problems that I caused from solving the intial problem. Eventually.
Labels: Entropy
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