I Have A Problem: Follow Up

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh ...

That's better.

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP the leaves! )

Movement!

I Have A Problem ...

I have a problem.

(Admittedly, I have many problems. Some are of my own making.)

But let's stay on point here, hokay?

I have a problem. A leaf problem. A debris problem. Specifically, I have a problem with leaves and twigs and other debris littering my driveway. 

Nothing makes me happier than gazing down the length of that asphalt with the hum of the blower winding down, seeing the drive completely unencumbered of the chaff and remains of the trees on either side of it. Pristine, clean and ready to commute upon with nary a snap or crunch of anything underfoot. 

Clear, silent rubber on the road. Soft footsteps keeping rhythm with some unknown tune in my head as I walk its length on the way to the mailbox.

But ... that hasn't happened in days.

Other duties called. Work. The cleaning of the house in anticipation of Thanksgiving guests. Other things that selfishly took my mind elsewhere, somewhere other than the worry of the littered driveway.

It's been over a week now since last I hauled out my electric blower and blew. And yesterday, when I finally had time to do so, the rain came and stayed from the morning right on into the night, mocking my want of leafy riddance.

*sigh*

And still wet from rain, the leaves will remain until they can easily be erased from their temporary blacktop resting place.

Yes, I have a problem ... a persistent, pestering leafy problem ...

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP )

Oh sure ... the leaves on that tree can stay stuck to the tree ...

The Answer

The responses? Have been overwhelming. Of course not a one of them was placed on the post itself but a bevy of'em turned up on on social media, private messages and the like. (Proving conclusively anyone who reads this blog is nuts.) Ergo it will look like I'm answering my own question - something I don't have (and, for ages, haven't ever had) a problem doing.

So ... what's the answer to the above? Simple.

"Nothing. "

"What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?"

To me the obvious question to the question is: Why would you "attempt" anything? With the indicated parameter, any attempt would be met with success. There's no room for failure in what is asked, not a hint of it.

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP answering your own questions. "Never!" ) 

 

What's The Answer?

Hokay, people: Listen up.

I want an answer to the question posed on the above metal plaque. And there is an answer.

Not only that, it's a pretty simple one. 

What? You don't think it's all that simple? Here's what you do then: Read it and go through the motions. You should have the result in no time.

Leave your answer in the comment section and I'll do same - what I believe the solution to be at any rate which will be the right one (along with justification) - in 24 hours.

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP )

I Have A Shoe Problem ...

I have a shoe problem.

I also have a clothing problem … but that’s best left for a different blog entry. (Mayhap by the reading of my shoe problem, you might catch a hint of what my clothing problem is.)

Yes. I have a shoe problem.

It manifested itself over the weekend. And it became necessary for me to give in to it. Yes. I purchased a pair of shoes. (Well … technically my wife did. It was she who actually conducted the transaction. So that really wasn’t a problem.)

Here’s the situation:

We’ll have to vault back to a time ... many, many years ago when there was actually a Mervyn’s department store … before they went out of business. Because that was the last time I purchased a pair of shoes. (And, if memory serves, that too was a transaction conducted by my wife.)

I was ambling about in the shoe section while my patient spouse was failing in her attempt to get our daughter to settle on any pair of shoes to wear (an ongoing dilemma to this day).

Aimlessly wandering about, I happened upon a clearance rack. There, at eye level, was a black box. I don’t recall the name on the box, but something caught my eye. It was an oval sticker claiming “85% off”. I scanned the box for the original sticker price. Finding it, it claimed the shoes were $95.00. I quickly did the math: At 85% off, they would ring up at a mere $14.25. I decided to get them. Where else was I going to find a pair of spiffy dress shoes for $14.25?

Heading to the register, they were scanned. They came up something completely and totally different than the $14.25 figure I had come up with in my head.

Something radically different.

$2.16. Two ... Dollars ... Sixteen ... Cents.

“Are you certain?” I inquired of the sales lady assisting me. She was certain.

And, therein, lies my shoe problem: I will be hard pressed to find another pair of dress shoes - ones around $100.00 - that will ring up at $2.16.

Years went by. And the problem continued to be just that. A problem seemingly without end.

That was … until this past weekend.

The wife was tending to the girls and they're inability to decide on shoes for school. She seemed a bit frustrated, so I stayed away and let her deal with them. In this case, misery does not love company, I thought.

And then, suddenly, another black box before me.

$80.00, the box beckoned. $80.00 with a discount sticker attached to it. An 80% off sticker at that. That made’em $16.00 out the door.

Or did it?

Could my fortune of those many years ago be re-manifesting itself once more? Would I get up to the check out register and have the box scanned by a helpful associate only to find that $16.00 price was naught?

Fat chance.

They rang up at $16.00. Plus tax.

You see … I have a shoe problem.

I hunt for the elusive single-dollar pair of dress shoes …

............................. Ruprecht ( STOP )