(The following “classic” Earth to Dave! article first appeared
in a Georgia newspaper on April 29, 1998)
I’m sick and tired. “Of what?” you may ask. Nothing in particular. I’m just SICK…and TIRED.
Let me explain, but first, let me say that I am NOT feeling sorry for myself. It’s just that I’m sure that I’m the only person who has ever felt this way, so I must share this experience with you.
It all started when I went to the mall recently. When I approached my car in the parking lot, I noticed something strange.
“All right!! Who threw a bag of cheese puffs on my car??!!” I shouted.
As I looked around for someone to jump out from behind some bushes shouting “Smile, you’re on Candid Camera!”, I saw…nothing.
Then a voice from the other side of the parking lot said,
“It’s not cheese puffs, moron. It’s POLLEN!!”
Okay, so I jumped the gun.
“I just moved here from California, OKAY??!” I shouted.
“That explains everything!” the little voice responded.
Well, being hard to convince, I bent down and put my face to the yellowish powder, forgetting that allergies had been a problem for me in the past. *Sniff sniff*. That, my friend is how it all began.
Since that fateful day, things just haven’t been the same. At night I toss and turn in bed, sniffling sneezing, aching, coughing, stuffy head and a fever. All I want is rest. Isn’t there any kind of medicine for all of these symptoms? You’d think so.
I decided it was time for…the bell.
One way to scare my wife half do death is to mention…the bell. Whenever I need something brought to my bedside, I just ring this little bell. Easy enough.
Ring Ring Ring! “Sweetie, I need some tissues”
Ring Ring Ring! “Honey, my throat hurts. Can you please run up to Athens to get me some of those hard-to-find throat lozenges?”
Ring Ring Ring! “Dear, could you change the oil in the cars? This time, don’t forget to use 10W40, okay?”
Ring Ring Ring! “Lovey, the lawn really needs mowing. Don’t forget the edges too!”
(That reminds me. My beautiful wife grew up actually ENJOYING mowing the lawn. Can you believe that? “Hey Mikey, she LIKES it!” My attitude since we’ve been married, and had a lawn, has always been “Go for it baby”. This has worked great for both of us, since she enjoys herself, and I have learned to make iced tea. I drink the tea, she mows the lawn. Life is good.)
Now, before you go e-mailing me, accusing me of being a bad husband, let me say this: I share my tea…if there’s any left. Thank you very much.
Anyway, I was gone last week and my sweetie decided to mow the lawn. Apparently the neighbors were aghast. Is this against ancient Georgian tradition? We are out-of-towners and don’t want to insult these traditions. Perhaps the Georgian forefathers issued an edict saying “No wife shall be found on a John Deere mower”. Someone help me out here. If we are bucking tradition, we must know. But I digress…
“The bell” has seen it’s last days. My sinus ailment became worse, later resulting in the need to have the bell surgically removed from my nasal passages. Well, I have learned that life here in Georgia is not conducive to swift recoveries from colds and flues. I have found numerous bags of those cheese puff pollen things on everything I own. Lately, I have heard a lot about things called “mold spores”. After much research, I have concluded that my symptoms persist because of the cumulative effect of all of our refrigerators. Let me explain.
“Mold spores” are a direct result of refrigerator cleanliness. They come from the fuzzy green stuff that grows on your fruits, vegetables, and Aunt Molly’s leftover meatloaf shoved to the back of the fridge. Every time said refrigerator is opened, the resultant “vacuum” sucks said mold spores into the open air, free to find my nasal passages. Mold spores are equipped with high-tech navigational systems and capabilities that don’t rest until my nasal passages are “locked on” and a successful “docking” has been accomplished. These same spores have been studied by NASA and are largely responsible for the success of the Space Shuttle program.
So, as soon as we all clean our refrigerators, my symptoms will cease and I will be well enough to take my gorgeous, incredibly loving and patient wife to a fancy restaurant (remember: I used “the bell”).
I am currently in talks with our local politicians and produce managers to form the “National Clean Your Fridge Day” (easily pronounced “NCYFD Day”). I have high hopes that we’ll rid ourselves of these EVIL mold spores.
“Hey Ruth, why are we cleaning our fridge, anyway?”
“Cuz some bonehead convinced Congress that it was a health safety issue. Something about NASA and some bell. Keep cleaning, Hal.”
In closing, your cooperation in cleaning your refrigerator would be appreciated. And every time you see a car with that yellow powder on it, use your finger and write the following into the back window:
“Clean your fridge!!”
Not only will the owner find this to be a pleasant surprise (over the totally LAME and YESTERDAY “wash me!”), this will help me, since I no longer have a bell to ring.
