Apparently, I shouldn’t have raised a hand against the year 2020, else – like a woman scorned, she hammers back with a vengeance.  I should probably explain.

Last week, I wrote a brief article on how 2020 basically sucked in a number of ways, but the fickle hands of fate must have read my blog and thought “who is this clown?” and “how may I now reap misfortune upon him?”

Let me give you a brief summary of my past week and maybe you’ll get the picture.

Saturday

My daughter goes to start her car (my old 1999 Toyota Camry – nicknamed “Stan”) and the key won’t turn – no matter what.  I looked up every YouTube video, tried everything I could think of, yet no dice.  As it turns out, Stan had developed a bad ignition switch.  Good for twenty-one years, but picked this week to give out.  I guess I can’t be too upset.  Long story short, the old switch has been pulled (after much cursing and other egregious comments from a friend of mine who did the heavy lifting), and a new replacement should be here for installation this coming Wednesday.  So, the household went from three vehicles down to two.  No problem.

Monday

I am putzing around my kitchen in the early evening when there comes an urgent knocking at my door.  I answer, and it is my neighbor, informing me that my minivan (nicknamed “Wheezy” and parked along the street) has just been hit.  I look out into the roadway and see a car about twenty yards away in the oncoming traffic lane, its front-right passenger side in shambles and leaking fluids.  The offending Volkswagen Golf (still sporting temporary tags) was incapacitated.  Poor “Wheezy” had been swiped on her back-left quarter panel, which literally ripped the back wheel sideways on her, destroying the wheel and possibly the axle underneath (the jury is still out on the total repairs).  The offending driver was a stumbling mess.  It was like talking to “Reverend Jim” from the old TV show “Taxi”.  The police were called, it was determined that the driver was NOT under the influence (of alcohol, anyway), a report was filed, and it was also beginning to strongly look like the good reverend was without insurance (although the police were going to let me know the following day for sure).  So the household went from three working vehicles down to one in just under 48 hours.

Tuesday

I was browsing our local paper, and a headline read “Man Struck and Killed on I-70 near Clear Spring”.  Wow, what a Monday night here in town. – I’ll just read a little more about it to see what’s what.  Then I looked at the name of the victim.  That looks familiar.  I pulled the insurance report provided to me by the County Sheriff’s Office after the accident.  The hairs on the back of my neck began to stand up.  Oh, no – it’s the same guy.  This poor gentleman hits my car on Monday night, no one comes to pick him up, and he then tries to walk home from Clear Spring along the interstate highway in the middle of the night and gets hit by an empty ammonium nitrate tractor-trailer truck.  Hand to God – honest to goodness.  You can’t make this stuff up.  Unbelievable.  I called and left messages with both the County Sheriff’s Office and the State Police.

Meanwhile, at my mother’s apartment just down the street, my brother and his wife are attempting to make some dinner in the kitchen.  The stove and oven are smoking like crazy, yet every time they check the oven itself (which wasn’t on), there’s no indication of anything wrong inside.  My brother’s wife then squats down and looks at the crack between the stovetop and the oven.  “This thing is on fire!” she shouts, and they get the unit pulled from the wall, the gas cut off, and the flames under control (thanks to the help of the neighbor from across the street).  After removing the stovetop, they find that the space between the stovetop and the exterior of the oven has been filled to the brim with peanuts and peanut shells, stolen and stored there by several industrious house mice (which had been caught and killed the over four days the week before).  The peanut shells had all caught fire from the heat of the stovetop, and luckily, my brother and his wife were right there before things really got out of hand.

Thursday

After months of working my job with no incident due to the pandemic (we had one near-miss in late summer which caused me to go get tested), one of my co-workers (in the same work area) tests positive for COVID-19.  Fantastic.  Immediately, we shut everything down and send everyone home to get tested (I had already had my staff working remotely – with only one person onsite per day – and those onsite taking all necessary masking and distancing precautions).

Friday

Since it was too late in the day for me to get a COVID test at the local drive-thru testing facility on Thursday, I shlep it out of bed at 6:00 AM and drive in to Hagerstown, hoping to be near the front of the line for an 8:00 AM opening time at the medical center – and find about forty cars already ahead of me (I will say; however, that once they started moving at 8:00 AM, I was through the line in an astonishing 25 minutes).  Meanwhile, COVID test results start to come in for my staff (three in my work area).  Two negative – and one positive.  Yikes! Now I’m on pins and needles, as I have been battling a cold, so my hypochondriac senses kick in.  Is it COVID?  Will we need to postpone Thanksgiving dinner?

Saturday

My one bit of luck comes in today, as my COVID test results come back negative.  Whew!  That was a close one (and it’s my second test in four months, so I’ve dodged a bullet yet again).

So basically, I apologize to 2020.  Whatever I said last week, can’t we just move past it?  Honestly, you’ve got a great month coming up (December), and I’m sure we can both get on with our lives.  Please?

I hope you all have a SAFE and happy Thanksgiving!