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Misleading

With every stroke, I could feel pressure building. Each motion of my hand brought my task closer to completion.

“Can you feel it?” My wife asked as she watched.

“Yeah.”

“I think you need more oil.”

I didn’t answer, opting to nod as I kept up the steady rhythm that had proven so effective in the past.

She leaned forward, extending one tentative hand toward me until she could dribble oil around the shaft. She stared with fascination from under heavy lids. I watched her watch, focusing on her expression as I listened to the sound of her shallow breaths from between lips parted in excitement.

The oil did its job, making movement easier, but in the process, I felt the change in friction, a sudden freedom of movement that meant the doom of our endeavor.

When I let go she asked, “Why did you stop?” The expression of disappointment on her face would have been comical if I had not been looking at it through lenses fogged over with frustration.

“The oil broke the vacuum seal. Now we don’t have any pressure.”

My girl made an inarticulate sound that was miles from gentle or dainty as she rose up from her kneeling position and stepped away.

“Sorry Sweetheart.”

“Why can’t we get this damned fish tank to prime?” She slammed the tiny oil can down on the table, causing a few drops to shoot up out of the top. “My fish tank can’t go without the filter for much longer. We have to get this working and I’m tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“I would love too, but as far as I know, pumping that little thing is the only way to prime the motor. Until that works, your tank won’t.”

If looks could kill I would have been so dead they would need to bury me twice. Her glare was both hot and cold and I held my hands up in surrender to try to avoid her wrath.

She stomped back to her tiny reef and grabbed the plunger, preparing to keep going. Any other plans, mundane or marital, would have to wait until the aquatic denizens of our home were guaranteed a fresh bowl.

*****

I drove to Cleveland and back this last weekend. A last-minute road trip to take my wife to visit our oldest child.

I love my family, but driving to visit takes a lot of the joy out of the visit. Our six and one half hour, one way, trip took over eight hours each time. This doesn’t include stopping to use the restroom or get food. This is just on the road time.

I have three words to explain this. Road Construction Sucks.

I am tired and that is all you get this week. I promise something scary next time.

L. E. White

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Categories: Random, Uncategorized
  1. March 13, 2013 at 1:38 PM

    Lmao! That was a great little spin! (and I don’t mean your road trip which sounds like it was the horror feature this week!) 🙂

    • March 13, 2013 at 8:37 PM

      I am glad you liked it. The worst part is that this is a true story. My wife has a 28 gallon reef tank and the manual primer on the filter is out. We have spent hours trying to fix it or get it to prime and will be taking it back to the store to see what they can/will do this weekend.

      • March 14, 2013 at 2:35 PM

        Some of the best yarns find their origin in truth… even a clever, yet physically and emotionally exhausting one like this! Priming those pumps is no fun… Good luck at the store!

  2. ganymeder
    March 14, 2013 at 10:43 PM

    That was hilarious!

  3. March 17, 2013 at 3:01 PM

    Who needs horror when you have road construction, eh? Loved this story. Quite amusing with the double entendre working throughout.

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