Rich changes a tire

I changed my first tire the other day. I took the spare out, rolled it to the far end of the garage by the front of the two cars, turned it, and leaned it up against the wall. I walked about 20 feet and grabbed the jack. As I was walking back, I noticed the tire was not where I left it. I got to the spot between the two cars in time to see the tire rolling out of the garage, quickly. I ran after it, but it beat me to the end of the driveway and turned down the street. Seriously, it just made a right after rolling out of the garage. It was like a remote control tire — and the driver was some punk hiding in a tree, laughing at me.

We live on a bit of a hill, so the tire started cruising down the street. I ran as fast as I could after it and tried kicking to knock it over. It wobbled a little but kept rolling, faster and faster. I tried again and, once again, there was a little wobble but it had too much momentum at this point. Finally, I charged the tire and was able to at least change its course. It rolled right into the driveway of someone who lives too far from us to really be considered a neighbor, came to a stop as though the punk kid had grown tired of playing with me, and toppled over.

In my dreams


I woke up the other morning and Claire told me that I said something in my sleep. This is always good news for me because I don’t ever remember anything and it’s fun to try and guess what it means about my subconscious. This time, apparently, I giggled and said, “EXCELLENT!”

The first incident happened right after we were married. This was when Claire wasn’t sure if I was talking in my sleep because, apparently, I speak clearly…well, I speak the same as I normally do. So, I sat up, pointed my finger around the room and said, “And we’ll have flamingos here, here, and here.”

My favorite story was when Claire was 8 months pregnant with Julia and sound asleep. This time, I guess my tone was more urgent than the others, “Turn on the lights.” Claire replied, “I’m pregnant. You turn on the lights.” I repeat, “Turn on the lights.” Claire wondered what could have been so important to justify disturbing her slumber, rolled herself out of bed (Not really…Claire hardly shows when she is pregnant. I just wanted to make it more dramatic), and turned on the lights. Immediately, I covered my eyes and said, “What are you doing?!?! Turn off the lights!” Claire, not amused, retorted, “You told me to!” Understandably irritated because Claire just woke me up for no reason, I turned over and went back to sleep.

I get a bigger kick out of this story than Claire does.