A long list of my baffoonery

You know how when you’re feeling a little proud of yourself, when you’ve faced a challenge and prevailed, and you’re basking in the glow of success?
Don’t do it. Don’t bask. Don’t pat yourself on the back for any length of time because if you do, I promise you fate will take notice and smite you.
So in light of said facts and fate’s nasty side, let me tell you a funny story.
It’s spring. The grass is finally growing. I have more than three acres of growing grass that needs cutting.
In readiness, I needed to do the necessary spring tune-up on my lawn tractor. Only problem was I had no idea what I was doing.
Ahhh, dear Google, dear helpful Google—and my father’s voice in my head saying firmly, “Never let a boy do something for you that you can do for yourself.”
So I changed the oil and the oil filter. I changed the air filter and the fuel filter and the spark plugs. I charged the battery and was ready to cut grass. I was feeling pretty proud of myself—even a bit full of myself with more than just a hint of smug even though it wasn’t exactly rocket science.
Alas, fate got wind of my state of mind; probably saw me doing my “Rocky” run up my basement stairs singing “Gonna Fly Now,” arms over my head. Fate rubbed its hands together while saying very clearly, “Not so fast.”
Two rounds of the lawn and the mower deck belt snapped. My lawn-cutting came to an abrupt halt and I sat on my tractor, arms folded, trying hard not to swear and feeling a bit of despair.
This isn’t the funny part.
I was driving to the Cub Cadet dealer last week as I wrote this to pick up a new belt for my lawn tractor because there was no way on Earth I was giving up. No broken belt was going to beat me, at least not yet.
It was a sunny day so I put on my prescription sunglasses. But something was wrong—terribly wrong. My left eye did not have the same vision as my right.
I raised my glasses, rubbed my eye, lowered my glasses, and shook my head as I arrived at the Cub Cadet dealer.
I walked confidently up to the parts desk, where the parts man seemed very happy. He was smiling and chuckling for no apparent reason, and he didn’t seem to want to make eye contact with me.
I ordered the part and drove home—still having trouble with my left eye and wondering if I was having a stroke or had some incurable disease.
I opened the back door and the terrible truth came to light when I looked in the mirror and burst out laughing.
My prescription sunglasses were missing the left lens. I looked like a pirate just off the ship. “Aye, matey,” I said to the mirror. No wonder the parts guy was chuckling.
The worst part is I have to go back tomorrow to pick up the belt. My dilemma: do I share a laugh with the guy and ask him if he’s ever been to sea, or do I pretend like nothing happened.
I think I’ll go with the latter.
What a baffoon I am. In a long list of my baffoonishness, including wearing two different shoes to church (one heel and one flat) and including attending a job interview in a mis-buttoned shirt as if Stevie Wonder had dressed me, this is just another entry.
Like I said, a long, long list. Sigh.