Money Left Over

My first stop yesterday was in the western part of Michigan, namely the town of Allegan. The good folks at Allegan Rentals wanted a cutting blade; as I was to be in the area for other things I took it to them.

The owner asked if I wanted a check or to send one, then said he'd just go ahead and pay. Stepping into his office he came back with a $19 check. 

Me brother Phil was with me. At being handed the check I turned to him and said, "Looks like you'll be getting paid this week."

"And you'll have money left over," he quipped without missing a beat.

Mannix Alarm

Early yesterday morning something happened to me which, honestly, never did before. I was woken up by Joe Mannix, the old TV private detective played by Mike Connors.

I needed to leave on a sales trip at 2:30 in the wee hours of Tuesday. Also - you'll need to know this - I leave the television on overnight. My channel of choice lately has been METV, which offers a variety of older shows, most of which date to the early 1970s. I've become pretty aware of what's on when.

So I crawl into bed early Monday evening with the boob tube on and set an alarm for 1:30. Soon enough I've drifted off. Within in what felt like a few minutes I found myself in that half awake twilight I believe most of us experience from time to time. But I could hear the TV, and vaguely thought, 'That sounds like Mike Connors; Mannix must be on.' I fell back into a deeper sleep.

Then I woke with a shock. Mannix doesn't start until 2. I'd missed my alarm! Looking at my phone screen, it was 2:38. When I set the 1:30 alarm I neglected to save it. Consequently, of course, it didn't ring.

Fortunately I had no set appointments, so precise timing on my trip wasn't paramount. Still, uh, it pays to know your TV schedule?

Nowhere Near Late

I woke up this morning, and my first thought was panic. 'Shoot! I missed my alarm',  I thought.

Only I hadn't missed it. I'm going to Indianapolis tomorrow, not today.

Of all the things that had never happened to me, that was the most profound never had happened. I can't even imagine why it happened or how it even managed to come into my mind. 

I knew quite well as I drifted off last night that Wednesday I had a sales trip and that today was only Tuesday. In fact I knew clearly my battle plan for today, mentally reviewing it as I lay in bed. Install a KC-8 shaft in a Model C, rewire a second Model C; there were two machines which needed new cables, and I wanted to email my next order to the factory. A straightforward work day.

Thank goodness today is just Tuesday. 

It is only Tuesday, right?

The keys to my kingdom

Keys, wallet, cell phone. That's my basic checklist every time I leave my house. But it does leave me to wonder why I have so many keys.

Some of them I have to have of course. The keys to my house, my car, and the old barn for example. I can't work, get back into the house, or drive without them. Yet even there I find duplicity. Two house keys are on my key ring: the one I use and the original key, the first one we got when we bought our house in 1981. The original one has worn down so bad I was afraid I'd break it off in the lock, so I had a second made. Yet I keep the first one with me. It's too sentimental, perhaps, that I do. But I do.

I always have my keys to our place in da UP, in Hessel, on me. It makes me feel as though I could at any time, on a whim essentially, just say forget everything and go up north. Sure, I haven't ever came close to actually doing that. But hey, maybe one day as I leave Indianapolis after a sales trip I might just think that I'll drive up Interstate 69 and into US 127 by Lansing and onto Interstate 75 just before Grayling and go straight to Hessel. That can't happen if I don't have my Hessel keys.

I still have my last classroom key, which I think I was supposed to have turned in. But I haven't taught since January 2010, and the Warren Consolidated Schools know where to find me if they need it. I'd be shocked if the locks haven't been changed anyway. Especially to keep me out.

I even still have the key to the gym of old St. Alphonsus in Dearborn, from when I was a coach there. I know they've changed that lock. I don't care if they have. I haven't had to use it since 2003.

There are keys from old locks which are so gone to history that I'll never be able to figure out where they went. I mean keys to locks we had at the Shop in the 1970s. I carry old suitcase keys, an old locker key from when the Detroit Curling Club was on Drake road in West Bloomfield, and one which I haven't a clue of its origin. And I keep them all.

I just think of it as small time hoarding.