Assessing the Aftermath Phase II and More Shit
2008-06-13, 3:25 p.m.
Can I get an OW!!?? (again!)
Actually, this is more like a prequel.
Got a phone call Saturday morning, 8:00am, just as I was getting ready to head to the Y for a little leg warming session. It was The Bob. Calling to ask me to kill all his cards (all ONE of his cards actually). Seems he’d lost his wallet and didn’t want to run the risk of someone using his card(s). He also said he had emptied EVERYTHING trying to find his wallet, and it just isn’t in his apartment.
Hoo-boy. Been here before.
I calmed him down. Talked him out of going to the front desk and reporting a robbery. Asked him if he wanted us to come over to help him look for it. His answer? Of course not – it’s been stolen. It’s not in the apartment. I pass along a few more platitudes, try to keep him calmed down. As we hang up, I was left with the impression that he was going to look through his bedding one more time. His wallet has turned up there before. And in the fridge, in his shoes (literally INSIDE a shoe) and one in the oven. Nothing is out of bounds,.
I let Cindy in on our little conversation. Her reaction? We’d better go, don’t want him getting all excited. When he gets really frustrated he starts slinging shit around his apartment. Ask the neighbors.
We saddle up and head over. (There was never really a choice) Got up to his apartment and found that it wasn’t nearly as trashed as we’d feared. Some clothes out, dresser drawers removed, but all in all not too bad. I started my search by looking under the bed. While I was on my hands & knees, bent over peering under the bed, I hear Cindy say “There it is!” I straighten up and see her pointing past me, into the closet. There, in the closet, right on top of his night stand (what – don’t you keep your night stand in the closet?) was Bob’s wallet with his room keys wrapped around them. (That’s where I was looking next, honest) Elapsed time of search? 4.3 seconds. Travel time to do search? 15 minutes. Gas used – I’d say $4 worth, but that might be $4.50 today!
So the wallet was found. Room keys too, even though they weren’t “missing” yet. Cindy and her dad were still in the bedroom talking about something when I got nosy and decided to look for his camera. His very nice SLR digital camera (D50 for anyone who cares). I do the normal thing and started my search in the fridge. (What? Yes, that’s the new normal).
I was kinda surprised that the little refrigerator elf that turns on the light appeared to be on strike. The peanut M&M’s on the bottom shelf also seemed unusually warm (but still tasty). I checked an orange, also a resident of the bottom shelf – it was petrified. Then I dares to peek into the freezer. There, much to my dismay, was a box (can, tub, wtf ever) of Edy’s Ice Cream. Goo. Pure goo. Warm pure goo. A tragic loss, to be sure.
Did more digging. Disposal didn’t run. Ceiling light over the entry way didn’t work. None of the outlets in the bedroom had power. “Oh – been that way for days now” is Bob’s reply to my query. Found the breaker panel in his apartment. When I opened it, I found every breaker on the left hand side of the box had been turned off. Every one. Of course, the little baton things were now all pointed in the same direction. The right side ones pointing toward the center and “ON” the left side ones pointing away from the center and “OFF”.
We emptied out Bob’s fridge. Breakfast sausage, fruit, fuzzy leftovers from lunches & dinners – all way past safe to eat. Passed off the breakers being off as the possible result of a recent thunderstorm (yeah, sure). I’m fairly certain that Bob was the unwitting culprit. Cindy gets upset with me for assuming that her Dad is responsible for these type of things, but who else is going to do it? The cleaning lady? A guest? The aide that does his medicine? Tim, the gofer/superintendent/Mr. fixit guy? Yeah, sure.
Like I said, I think he did it, but not maliciously – he just doesn’t make the connection between action & result as well any more.
After getting Bob straightened out and sending him down for breakfast, we went back home and got back to what ever it was we were doing. Took a lunch break and resumed puttering. About 1:15 we got a call from Eric, who was at work.
E: “I need you to come pick me up.”
C: “What, you’re done for the day already?”
E: “Sort of. I need to go to the ER and get my leg x-rayed”
So Cindy comes out to the garage, gives me the scoop and off we go. Change clothes real quick like and make the 0.8 mile trek to where Eric works. When we get there, he’s waiting outside with his boss. After he hobbles to the van and gets settled in we get the full story.
He was minding his own business, driving his pallet jack in the freezer (he works in a local grocers meat/produce warehouse ‘distributing’ goods). He was negotiating a turn, had to stop, then when he restarted, turned the throttle the wrong way (forward instead of reverse I guess). The pallet jack (sort of a very low lift forklift) lurched a direction he wasn’t expecting, pinning his leg between the 3000 lb pallet jack and a steel safety post. His leg lost. Work called in the rescue squad, ambulance and of course the town police showed up. Evidence of the small town nature of this place – Eric played hockey with the son of one of the EMT’s and the other EMT was a classmate of Zach’s in high school. Nice to be treated by friends.
The EMT’s didn’t think it was too terribly serious, and Eric refused the ride to the hospital in the ambulance. So Cindy & I ended up dragging him there. Had a choice of 3 hospitals – Strong, associated with the U of R, a huge teaching hospital; Rochester General – another huge institution and a 30 minute ride; or Park Ridge, a much smaller place and only 5 minutes away. Fearing an interminable wait at either of the huge joints, we opted for the smaller, local place.
Long story short – going to the smaller hospital was the right move. Eric’s leg was not broken, but he’s going to have one very nasty contusion. Total time in the hospital? 1.5 hours. Seriously. It was kind of too bad, because we don’t have AC at home and it was 90 some degrees that day. Hanging out in the hospital was at least cool, if a little boring.
I thought I had pictures of it. Well, I do have pictures, just not here. And now, nearly a week later, the bruises are much more spectacular. Took another set of pics last night. Very purdy. And purple, yellow, green, blue and a little red. I’ll toss some up this weekend maybe.
In biking news – I broke another damn spoke Wednesday. Or – it broke itself. Biked to spin class that morning, then to work. No problems. Went to ride home that night and I noticed that pedaling was a bit harder than it should be. When I got about a half mile from work, I heard a jangly sound from the rear wheel. So I stopped, took a look and sure enough, there was another busted spoke. The gang I was riding with stopped, one of the guys twisted the busted spoke around one of the remaining good ones and proclaimed “That’ll get you home. How far you gotta go?”
Ironically, the twistee spoke job would have gotten me home. Unfortunately, the right pedal coming unglued and refusing to stay on it’s spindle kinda put a damper on things. So I had to call for a rescue, again. At least this time it was only 2 miles from home.
Now, on Friday afternoon, my bike is in the shop getting it’s rear wheel rebuilt. Even the guys at the shop were a little leery of just replacing the spoke again. The pedals have been replaced and the busted one sent back to the manufacturer under warranty. With any luck, I’ll have the beast back Saturday afternoon. Just in time to NOT ride it on Sunday. Maybe. The boys and I have plans to spend Fathers day at Durand Eastman Park, getting in 18 holes (that’s HOLES Ms. Q!!) of golf.
Hope y’all have a peaceful weekend. For those of you that are able – go do something with your dad. And please – no ties!
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