Driving

I drive fairly far fairly often. I don't like it, primarily because I feel that I am surrounded by idiots. What lends me claim to such superiority? I know how to drive, and I am a pretty courteous driver, too, as long as you are not a moron.

Here are a few suggestions for improvement.

1. If I am driving in the left lane on the highway in morning traffic, I will let you change lanes if your turn signal is blinking. No turn signal, no turn. Once you are in front of me, though, you should maintain the speed I was doing before I let you in. Don't slow down. If you do, I think you are a moron because I was in the left lane to avoid slowpokes like you.

2. If you feel the need to pull out in front of me when there are no other cars for miles, you are surely in a bigger hurry than I and, therefore, should step on it so that I don't have to slow down. If I have to put on my brakes, you are a moron.

3. If a raindrop falls, you don't have to panic. If you do, please get out of my way, idiot.

4. If you are driving a bus, don't feel that you are exempt from traffic signals. Should you feel the need to run a red light and hit my car, or come very close to hitting my car, I will feel the need to call you a moron.

5. If you need to pass me, get in front of me, and then slow down, you are a moron with an attitude. Do you feel better now that you moved up one car but your slow speed actually put you back five cars? I will go around you.

6. When you are behind me, and I have on my left turn signal to pull into a parking spot, and my car is moving, don't try to pass me on the left where I am turning. You surely are a moron, and you deserve every disgusted look I can shoot at you as we repeatedly cross paths in the grocery store. Had you not been stupid, I might have smiled at you instead.

7. If you must drive to your child's bus stop and park alongside the road, don't park at the stop sign. That doesn't leave me enough room to get around you and allow other cars to turn. We all sit there staring at each other uncomfortably because you are taking up more than half of the road. Back it up.

8. If you need to drive excessively slow, maybe you should just stay home.

9. If you can't stay in your lane, or on the road for that matter, stop texting, moron.

10. Above all, the glasses should be on your face before you put the car in drive. Don't swerve all over God's creation while you look for your glasses. Duh.

11. The finale: when there are sixteen "Road Closed" signs, a thousand traffic cones, and hundreds of orange barrels, the road is closed. Don't drive down it unless you know where you are going. When you come to a complete stop in front of me because you are confused, you make me stop, too. I know where I am going, so get out of my way.

And yes, people have done all of these things in front of or around me. Are people really this dumb?

My Flapper Is Broken

For several days now, I have been eying everyone in the house with suspicion, cornering individuals and interrogating them under threats of serious punishment if they don't tell me who flushed what down the toilet. It's just not flushing right, and everyone now knows what an ordeal it would be for me to hire a plumber to come out here and fix it, not to mention that digging up the backyard will cost thousands of dollars, and nothing hard or insoluble is to flow down any drain EVER because it will most definitely wind up lodged somewhere in the septic system. This would result in my having to take time off work, and as money would be diverted to the plumber, birthday gifts would become small and scanty, and sustenance will take a turn toward the generic. Should I go on? The kids know this speech well.

Anyway, I have plunged the heck out of that toilet; the walls are water-splattered; countless towels have been dirtied, and I have had to take six million post-plunging showers. No progress. I swore it was the blue toilet cake mixed with Charmin, and I swore off both retail items for all of eternity. The next step was to procure a plumbing snake. I snaked that toilet six ways till Sunday. I now have pretty intimate knowledge of the potty. I snaked that thing for an hour, forcing that skinny slinky through the s-curve over and over again. Grrrrr. No progress. I did learn two things, though: toilet water is really, REALLY cold, and there was nothing stuffed down the potty. The stupid flapper is broken. There was no need at all for me to coat myself with toilet water. NO NEED AT ALL!!!!!!! Stupid flapper. Curse you, stupid flapper.

Overall, though, doesn't it sound kinda strange to say, "My flapper isn't closing properly." How about, "I just can't get my flapper to shut at the right moment"? Sounds oddly personal, but it's so not, especially since some people hire a plumber to fix it--a plumber with low-slung jeans, a tool belt, and a gut. I, however, will fix my own flapper, but no one in the house needs to know that everyone is in the clear. Suspicion and fear keep people in line, and if the fear involves the loss of a potty, they all straighten up real quick.