T -08 days: I have a plan, a hard-target, non-negotiable deadline imposed by the universe, and hotel reservations (I usually don’t do reservations to anything). Therefore, my truck, the Death Wobble Express, decides it needs an infusion of money.
T -06 days: I drop my truck off at a mechanic to install the n-th steering fluid hose. I leave it there all day. At the end of the day the mechanic calls and tells me the part didn’t arrive but he can keep it all week and through the weekend and then fix it on eclipse day. I thank him but immediately retrieve my big red security blanket. I might not sleep well knowing it’s beyond reach. If I have to I can use it in the meantime. Proper steering is for wimps.
T – 05 days: Mrs. Curmudgeon can’t get time off work. I sympathize. We’ve all been there. I’ll be sad that she’s not with us while I go fishing after the eclipse. The kids have forgotten there’s a trip. Mrs. Curmudgeon has a 5 pack of eclipse goggles (she somehow avoided the Gladys based shipping rigmarole). I had no idea she ordered them. That’s the sign of a great life partner! She assumed I’d fuck up (all women suspect their husbands are idiots) but instead of hassling me she just bought a spare set. When the zombie apocalypse comes she’ll have my back. (Or at least a few pounds of coffee I didn’t know she’d stashed.)
T -04 days: The press reports that hordes will descend on Madras, Oregon causing a shortage of herbal teas, hand carved bracelets, and patchouli. Also, the traffic will back up and cell phone towers will be overloaded. Therefore many thousands will surely die. (This confuses me. Smartphone withdrawal is fatal? Or is it traffic?) I ponder my target area of [Redacted], obviously a place where nothing happens. The local infrastructure could be overwhelmed by six families in minivans and a teenage girl on a cell phone. I decide to bring coffee, beer, and a can of Mountain House; just in case. Mrs. Curmudgeon can get time off work again. Huzzah! The kids have forgotten there’s a trip coming up and grunt noncommittally. I make arrangements for the dog and hurl some food on the lawn for the goddamn cats that refuse to die. I schedule a post on my blog with the wisdom of esteemed philosopher Dave Barry.
And that’s it. I’m done prepping. I’ve deliberately read virtually no press except to know where it’ll happen and when. I’d rather just experience whatever happens. I have no idea what an eclipse is like. Is it worth all this hassle? Secretly, I expect to get caught in traffic en route to an occluded rainstorm and be blamed for everything sucking from the time we leave until the time we return. Such is the risk of a family vacation.
[Stay tuned…]
T -04 days: The press reports that hordes will descend on Madras, Oregon causing the state to tip over and fall into the sea.
Much like Guam may capsize!
I’m on vacation, & Sunday afternoon I was coming back from Florida. I went through the truck, checking things & changing fluids. Just coming into Valdosta, about 500 miles from home, the PS pump let go & took the serpentine belt with it–just late enough for parts houses to be closed.
I had enough tools in the truck to change out the pump, but nowhere to get one. The Pilot parking lot on Madison Highway isn’t the worst place to spend the night, but it’s not one I’d recommend.
Next morning, I decided I’d have it done, rather than have my old ass under the truck most of the day fixing it. Kudos to S&S Auto & Diesel: I limped the truck over there about 8:30, & was on the road by 12:00.
[In reference to your other comment… which I didn’t post because my dog is already pissed at me. No worries. I don’t mind a bit… but just for the record Chicago can kiss my ass. Happy Labor Day weekend.]
“T -04 days: The press reports that hordes will descend on Madras, Oregon causing the state to tip over and fall into the sea.”
Well then thank God the eclipse didnt happen here in CommieFornia! It would have caused The Big One and we would have fallen into the ocean causing our Gourmet Organic Yogurt to be ruined and our yoga pants to get moldy.