I had a week’s worth of failures, but it’s okay.
Today I planned to do a Fourth of July volcano using soda and candies. I’ve seen the videos in which dudes seeking a thrill go to the woods or a beach and put together a cocktail that results in a huge foam explosion. Mine didn’t turn out that well. In fact, nothing happened at all, except I wasted three bottles of soda, a box of baking soda, half a six-pack of candies, a bottle of vinegar, three aluminum containers and my pride.
Still, I put up the video to show that failing is okay:
Maybe it was my choice of soda: I wanted to use a popular colorful soda for the obvious red, white (sort of) and blue patriotic significance. Maybe I didn’t have enough of the ingredients or did the wrong combo in the recipe. Anyway, I wound up with less of a mess if I would had it gone correctly.
Tried my hand at sealing cracks earlier in the week, with a recommended spray can, which stopped up and didn’t look very appealing when applied. I guess I’m stuck with it until I can wrench it out. Plus I’m out two thirds of the can I bought.
Last week I bought a beautiful plant, a hydrangea, and I figured that once it rained and the ground was soft, I could pop it into the ground. The threat of severe weather hung like a cloud–a nonproductive one at that–all week, but nothing came. After a few days I tried to get into my dad’s old tool shed for a spade, but the combination lock was frozen and would not budge. Wound up borrowing a friend and a bolt cutter and getting a new lock.
Once I had the spade, I had to start digging. The insects were out in force and I got bitten a few times, but got the hole dug and put the big root ball into it and was ready to walk away, when I looked back and saw that my angle of viewing was so off that a good two inches of the plant was still protruding from the ground. Plus I had watered it already. Two muddy hands later, and it’s finally at the right depth.
Fixed a squeak in the storm door, or thought I had. The telling feature was when leaving the house and holding the storm door with my butt while locking up: the squeak had such an interesting timbre that I would occasionally (when nobody was around to look) do a little bump and grind to make some squeaky door music with it.
Hey, I’ve been working from home in quarantine, too, and whatever brings joy is fine at this point.
Anyway, a can of that famous two-letter and two number lubricant later, and it’s finally fixed. Squeaky door concerts are over for the season. It may return in time for Halloween.
Bought a loaf of supposedly tasty but healthy bread, but for all the care spent packaging it, it tasted like flavored cardboard. I went back to my regular bread.
Out of the three cartons of milk I had ready to go last week (one nearly empty, one ready to replace it and one on reserve, I realized the one I had almost emptied had a later expiration date than the other two. Considering that the store has been known to do this, I should’ve put my glasses on first.
The great thing is that I survived this week, and today I’m going to have burgers and coleslaw and just forget about soda foam salutes. Next week is a chance to start over and do better.
After I polish off the rest of the darned soda.
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