I have to admit that
when it comes to winter driving, I try to avoid it at all costs.
If I absolutely have
to go out, such as if there is no food in the house and my dogs are staring at
me as if they’re wondering how many meals the meat on my thigh bone might provide, then I’ll venture out. Otherwise, I’m perfectly fine with hibernating
until June.
Last week, however, I
finally made a sale on eBay. It was a set of trading cards I’d
listed way back when people were still complaining about the heat and how all
of the stores were sold out of air-conditioners and fans.
In other words, I’d
totally forgotten about those cards.
The temperature was a
balmy 20 degrees with a sub-zero wind chill on the day I made the eBay sale. Not exactly a day I was eager to leave my warm house, my cup of hot tea
and my heated comforter, and subject my old body to weather that would cause
icicles to hang from my nostrils in about 10 minutes.
But experience has
taught me that when it comes to eBay, being prompt at sending out packages
usually earns some much-desired 5-star positive feedback, so I forced myself to
get up early and go to the post office.
By the time I finally
gathered the courage to actually set foot outside, however, it was 3:00 PM…two
hours before the post office closed. One of the reasons why I was so late was
my hair. No matter which way I brushed it, it decided to go in the opposite
direction. I tried dampening it, spraying it and using gel on it. After
countless failures, I finally found a solution.
A knitted hat pulled
down past my ears.
Anyway, I went out to
the garage, hopped into my car (which could have doubled as a refrigerator in
an emergency at that point) and reached up to the visor to push the button on
the remote control that opens the automatic garage door.
Nothing happened…other
than a loud grinding noise. So I tried again and heard even more grinding.
Muttering, I got out of the car and walked over to examine the door. It was
welded to the concrete with a strip of ice the entire length of it.
“Nooo!” I groaned,
thinking my car would be stuck in the garage until the spring thaw and I’d lose
my great rating on eBay.
So I tried the
door-opening button on the garage wall which, in retrospect, probably wasn’t
the most brilliant thing to do. I mean, if the door was stuck in the ice and
the remote-control button on my car’s visor caused it to grind, then why would
the other button on the wall make any difference? Did I think it might be
concealing a hidden blow-torch or something?
Sure enough, when I
pressed the wall button, the grinding sound not only grew louder, the panels on
the door looked as if they were about to rip apart and go flying into the
garage. Picturing my cause of death listed as “flattened by debris from a dismembered garage-door,” I dashed back into the house, grabbed my laptop and
Googled “How to release an automatic garage door that’s frozen to the ground.”
It suggested that I
first disconnect the door from the automatic opener by pulling straight down
and then back on the red emergency release-cord hanging from the trolley on the
rail. After that, it suggested trying to lift the door manually. If that
didn’t work, it recommended using a blow-dryer or a portable heater on the ice.
I hadn’t even been
aware my garage door had an emergency release cord, which sounded more like
something a skydiver would use as he was plummeting to his death. But I found
it and tugged on it. Then, just to make certain the door no longer was
connected to the automatic opener, I pushed the button. No more grinding noise,
so that meant, I assumed, it was disconnected. That gave me the courage to grab
the handle on the bottom of the door and give it my strongest heave-ho upwards.
Nothing budged…other
than several of my vertebrae.
I frantically searched
the garage for something that might chop the ice away – or even better,
something thin enough to slide underneath the ice and pry it up from the
concrete. I found a flat, hand-held garden spade that kind of resembled a
spatula, and set to work sliding it underneath the ice.
After what seemed like
four hours, I’d managed to loosen about one inch of the ice. Even worse, I’d been
on my knees for so long, they felt as if they also were frozen to the concrete.
Visions of myself having to squirm out of my jeans and walk pants-less back
into the house, sent me rushing back inside to search for the blow-dryer. I’d
never bothered to buy one for myself after my last one broke, but I remembered
my late husband had one…back when he wanted to keep his mullet looking stylish.
Where, however, was
it?
By then, it was 3:45
and I was becoming desperate. I found the blow-dryer in a far corner of the
cabinet underneath the bathroom sink. Then I searched for an extension cord,
which I ended up tearing off my Christmas tree. For once, procrastinating about
taking down the tree actually had come in handy.
The blow-dryer also
turned out to be painstakingly slow. As soon as I would manage to thaw one section
of the ice and move to the next section, the first section would start to freeze
up again.
At that point, I knew
that barring some miracle, I wasn’t going to make it to the post office before
it closed. And the next day, an ice storm, as if to curse me, was predicted.
I had to face
reality...I was doomed.
I stomped back into
the house and tossed my purse and the eBay package onto the counter. That was
when I saw it…the empty salt shaker I’d left out so I would remember to fill
it. Without thinking twice about the consequences, I rushed to the cupboard and
found a full container of table salt, then headed out to the garage and emptied
nearly all of the contents along the stubborn strip of ice that was holding the
door captive.
The ice began to thaw
more rapidly than I’d anticipated, and soon I could hear crackling noises. I
waited a few minutes longer, then tried tugging the door open again.
It was a struggle, but
it finally gave way and opened. I stood there, momentarily stunned that the
table salt actually had worked. I checked my watch. It was 4:30. If I left
right then and the traffic cooperated, I estimated I could make it to the post office just in time.
Figuring out how to hitch the door back up to the automatic opener would have
to wait until later.
I walked into the post
office at 4:55 and successfully mailed the package. I was so relieved, I felt
like doing a happy dance right there in the lobby. But I noticed that the clerk had given me a strange look when he'd first set eyes on me, so I didn’t want to give him any reason to
think of me as being even stranger.
Puzzled by the clerk's reaction, I checked my reflection in the mirror once I was back in my car...and gasped. Despite
the frigid weather, I’d obviously worked up a sweat during my lengthy struggle
to open the garage door because my mascara was in streaks down my cheeks. Also, my
hat had worked its way over to one side of my head and revealed a section of my
hair on the other side that was stuck to the side of my face because of the gel
I’d used on it. And there was a smear of something brownish, like axle grease,
on my chin. I pretty much resembled Alice Cooper in full makeup.
The first thing I did
when I got home was hook the door back to the automatic opener, which required
the use of a broom handle and some more grunting. Then I headed straight to my
laptop and deleted any items I still was selling on eBay.
I will relist them
again in June…maybe July.
I also asked Google,
even though it was too late, if it was okay to use table salt on the concrete
under my garage door. No problem whatsoever – well, other than the
deterioration of the concrete as the salt works its way into the fine cracks, accelerates
the freeze-thaw cycle and causes mass destruction leading to expensive and extensive repairs.
Nope, no problem at
all.
So after suffering
through this latest experience, I’m now more serious than ever about
hibernating…even if it means sacrificing some of my thigh meat to the dogs.
Heck, I can spare it.
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