So in the space of 24 hours, both my presentation at the Sanford Deep Underground Lab AND my keynote address at the MAA section meeting have been cancelled.
To no one in particular, I joked: “They say it’s the coronavirus, but I just think the universe just doesn’t want to listen to me talk anymore.”
At that very moment, my Burton Jones plaque — the award for which I was giving the keynote — literally fell to pieces right off my office wall.
HINT TAKEN, UNIVERSE.
A postscript to yersterday’s post.
I left a message with Black Hills Doors about my smashed up garage door, knowing that since they were closed on the weekends, I wouldn’t hear back from them until Monday to even schedule a repair estimate.
So I start moving stuff around in the garage so that the Queen B could at least park her car in the third-car space of the garage, which is where we currently where we store bicycles and lawn equipment.
As I’m doing this, a truck pulls up and a dude walks up. “I work for Black Hills Doors. I was heading home — I just live up the road a ways — and your address pinged in on my work phone, so I thought I’m come take a look-see.”
He proceeded to put the garage back in the track, reset both tension coils, rehang the door panels so they were straight, banged out most of the dents in the door, and reset the garage door control box.
When he was finished, I said “Thank you, man! What do I owe you?”
“No charge. I was just on my home.”
And then he drove away.
I didn’t even catch his name.
… Anyways, Black Hills Doors is now my favorite thing, and it should be yours too.
This week…
At this rate, I do not expect to survive Friday the 13th.
February 2, 2020. Apropos of nothing, the Trump Administration releases an updated map of the United States.
