Before I make a futile attempt to explain the title of this post, let me answer the question from last night's post that I'm SURE has cost each of you dear readers a decent night's sleep.
First, though, let me try to explain why I have so many pairs of athletic shoes. When I first buy a pair (I always buy the "walking" shoes, as if they could be meant for anything else), they are too nice to take an actual WALK in. Those are the ones I wear to school with jeans or khakis, or for Saturday night dinner out with Hubby. After a while they get too grungy to wear to school, so they become my walk-in-the-park shoes. When they get too broken down to wear for 3-mile walks, they become the shoes I wear to mow the lawn. (Hubby heard me tell someone this on the phone, and he guffawed -- GUFFAWED -- at the concept of me mowing the lawn.)
Therefore I typically have 3 pairs of sneakers/athletic shoes in circulation at the same time. The step that's missing here is giving one pair away (or throwing it away, if it's in really bad condition) when I buy a new one. That's how this happens.
So Frogger and DJan, your guesses were almost on the money. The correct answer, 12, falls between both your guesses. You have each won the pair of shoes of your choice in the photo above. Oh wait.... I already sent them to goodwill. Sorry! You might not even wear a size 7. Or 7 1/2.
Now for the title of the post. Hubby has many endearing expressions, and some day I hope to compile them all and devote an entire blog post to them. One of my favorites is "jumping to convulsions," meaning someone (hypothetically speaking it could be anyone, but this time it was me) has gone into panic mode before checking things out thoroughly. And only barely escaped looking foolish.
We took the RV back to the service center this week because the air conditioner that we just paid over $300 to get fixed didn't work last weekend. Well it sort of worked.... only when I tried to adjust the thermostat, the generator bogged down and almost quit. Oh yeah, and there may or may not have been a spark. Or two.
When we took it on Tuesday, Hubby nicely explained to the service guy that we absolutely HAD to have it back by Thursday. Sure enough, it was ready today (miracles DO happen). And they didn't charge us a penny, not even labor (see above regarding miracles). I asked Hubby, "Would it be rude to check to see if it works before we leave?"
He said we would check it at home, and never mind the 16-mile drive in a vehicle that gets 8 miles to the gallon. I should have waited until he was out of the parking lot, because he had me drive the RV home. When we got home, I fired up the generator and turned on the air.
Nada. Zilch. No.Thing.
To my (little bit of) credit, I didn't go nuts like I wanted to. I also didn't pick up the phone and call the RV place and give them a piece of my mind. I also didn't say to Hubby, "I TOLD YOU we should check it before we got out of the parking lot."
I did tell him the unfortunate news that none of the air conditioner's settings worked. I was in the process of plugging the electricicals (name that character and t.v. series) up to see if it worked off electricity, not that it would do us ANY good on BRAG next week, where we won't have hook-ups and will have to rely on the generator.
That was when I realized the service folks hadn't plugged the electricical thingie back into itself, which is required in order for the generator to produce electricicals.
At least Hubby was the only witness to my jumping to convulsions.
I celebrated by leaving home at 6:00 PM on an 18-mile bike ride. NOT by beginning the process of packing for a week-long bicycle trip that begins in approximately 36 hours.
And don't y'all go jumping to convulsions that I won't be ready either.