The July From Hell... And I'm Not Just Talking About 99 Degree Temps

I typically love summer... but THIS July... not so much. What frightens me most is that the month is only half done.

July 1: While rearranging furniture in my home office, I move my desk a couple inches, promptly knocking over a full drink onto my MacPro laptop. Next day at the Apple store, I am told I managed to saturate every iota of the interior. Beyond repair. (Refurbished replacement Macbook Air: $1,400)

July 10: My HP printer continually tells me it is “offline.” After Youtube helps me diagnose the conundrum, I discover the printer heads are permanently clogged and the machine is rubbish. (Refurbished replacement from Best Buy: $120)

July 15: After a gorgeous weekend in Richmond officiating a wedding, I am almost catapulted off of the Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel when I blow a tire on the bridge (see post below). (Tire replacement: $685; years erased from my life out of terror: 10)

July 15: I return home after leaving my car at the tire shop to discover that while out of town, one of my two AC thermostats has gone blank for the second time in 6 weeks. Because I purchased the thermostat myself in$tead of buying it from the HVAC company, the work is not covered by a simple warranty. It gets better: turns out that not only did the thermostat fail, but in fact, it reset itself to heat! So while one thermostat is set at 74 trying to cool my 4,000 square foot home, the other (with a blank screen) is slapping its virtual knee, pumping out heat at 85. (It’s 96 degrees outside; two days later, the HVAC company arrives: $474)

July 15: Returning home after 5 days in Richmond, the grass is 8 inches high. Time to tame the 3 acres with my EGO battery-operated mower… wait, why did it just abruptly stop? And stop again. And lurch. And about throw me off the god*amn machine? Okay, when I take the key out, it’s gurgling and shaking. This thing is possessed. 

Next part is not fun. EGO offers a 5-year warranty. Mower bought in May 2021. I can’t find the receipt. Now comes a back and forth between Lowe’s and EGO and Lowe’s again in an attempt to retrieve “proof of purchase” so warranty is honored. Over the course of 2 days, I spend 4 hours between waiting for anyone to pick up a call and dealing with a host of dimwits—until at last, Steven with Lowe’s recognizes I bought the mower online—which is why nobody can find the receipt. He does. 

Then, I call the only Virginia Beach mower repair company that services EGO. There is a minimum (I repeat: minimum) backlog of 6 weeks. So next, I get Thumbtack estimates to have someone cut my yard on a weekly or biweekly basis: $350! Hahahaha, oh hell no. And thus… (Secondary lawnmower purchased so I can cut my f*cking yard for the rest of the summer: $2,500)

July 19: Do I laugh or cry? The AC is down again. Same issue. Bedrooms are saunas... and I have new Airbnb guests. Despite having a contract with Norfolk Air, no repair until Monday late afternoon. Wow. Just wow.

The good news is I'm not so great at math, so I won't be adding up the bills I've accumulated thus far in July. Instead, I'll quietly cry in my vodka. In a nice tall glass. Very tall.

BLOW OUT!

Driving through Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel Monday morning, I blew a tire just as I cleared the tunnel. First exit off the bridge is 3/4 of a mile ahead. I ease to the shoulder, blinkers on, as the tire—thump, thump, thump—disintegrates. 

And then: Are you kidding? Suddenly there is NO SHOULDER, meaning I've got to merge back onto I-64, with a raw left rear tire rim and traffic roaring 60+ mph. All I could imagine is an 18-wheeler rear-ending Oliver Audi, sending me over the edge into the Chesapeake Bay. I’m thinking, well it’s been 99 degrees for a couple weeks; at least the water won’t be cold as I drown. 

I wait... wait... until I see a motorcycle in the rear view mirror, praying he'll see me creep out from the shoulder and he’ll have room to navigate into the left lane as I plod back into the right lane. So now I'm driving 2 mph (the smell of burning rubber is awful, the scraping noise not reassuring), with hands trembling, mouth dry, my darling Charlotte in the car, figuring this is how it's all going to end. 

 Meanwhile, the dashboard is screaming at me: I'm informed there's a "loss of pressure in the rear tire" (thanks), plus "Suspension System!" as well as a little wrench and a yellow blinking exclamation mark to further emphasize that I'm f*cked. 

 It's another half mile to the exit, as I inch forward, at last turning right—where there happens to be a Norfolk marina with room to stop and park. The tire was quite a spectacle: Most of the tread is tucked behind the rim, somehow kinda sorta intact... and miraculously (not sure how to explain this) part of the tire has adhered to the rim (see pic?). 

That means that despite driving for 3/4 a mile, the steel rim is cushioned by a layer of rubber and thus not bent. Amazing. Meanwhile, I read this after the fact: "Besides the immediate danger, sidewall blowouts can lead to extensive damage to the wheel rim, undercarriage, and a vehicle’s bodywork." Dare I say that despite almost swimming with the sharks, I'm fortunate? 

 Now to call AAA from the marina parking lot: "Sir, your membership expired June 30." Oh, sh*t. Pause. "But you have a 30-day grace period to renew." It takes 2 hours, but my new buddy Ray shows up with a tow truck and drives Charlotte and me to a tire joint. 

Cost of the tow: $7 (AAA membership pays for a 5-mile tow; $7 per mile after that… tire shop was 6 miles from the scene!). Cost of the tire: $685. Value of being alive to write this: priceless.

We're Back... Or At Least Public Again

With so much toxicity in our world anymore, I decided to remove The Smoking Nun from public view a couple years ago... It seems like what we once called sarcasm and playfulness is now so often regarded as deeply offensive to so many young 'uns.

Well, get over it, you hear? The Smoking Nun was always written with one hell of a big wink, so if anyone who happens to read something here feels wounded, then simply retreat to your cocoon. Words are meant to foster thoughts, change minds, ... not to trigger anxiety and resentment. Come on, enjoy life!

That said, as of May 2024, I am pleased to return this narrative to the public eye... ENJOY, all in good fun.

Hugs, cool cats.