According to Ed

Don’t Believe What Others Say–Check it Out.

Ed, my neighbor next door, has been trying to get his thoughts wrapped around our trip to China. “Where is it that you are going in China?” Ed wanted to know. I told him we are off to the capital, Beijing, as the first stop. I added that it is a very ancient city dating back 3000 years. Ed insisted on getting a piece of paper and making notes.

Ed tends to be suspicious about most things I tell him. Three thousand year old city he wrote in his notes and then muttered, “I’ll see about that one.” Ed decided that if the city dates back all those years, it must be pretty small by now. “Most of them people there must have died of old age by now,” Ed scoffed.

When I told him that Beijing is a metropolis of 20,693,000 people, he wrote it down quick and said “That’s another fact you’ve probably got wrong.” Ed wanted to know what on earth I would do among all those people. He informed me that I would be dealing with something way bigger than a Walmart Super Center. He continued that I could get lost in Beijing since it has a population like a country and never get back to Canada. I told him not to get his hopes up.

All DIY Lists Should Come With an Expiry Date

Ed, my neighbor next door, knows I have a long do-it-yourself list that keeps growing like a fungal infection. Ed cautioned me against ever starting a DIY list, as he claimed such a list is like a legal will. The whole world can see what you put on the list and once it gets written down, it is like a life sentence to complete the list.

I wish I had listened to Ed, as my DIY list has become a source of regret and shame for me. I regret admitting that so many jobs need to be done. Then, there are my recurring feelings of “shame on me” for putting those jobs off so deliberately. I can see what needs to be done, but I procrastinate instead of getting to the tasks and getting them done.

The handymen on television make all DIY jobs look so simple and easy. They never have to say, “What a mess I made.” I feel like Mike Holmes is watching me when I pound nails in crooked and measure a board twice and botch it both times. The only thing I have mastered so far is writing long DIY lists of what I should be doing.

No Comfort for the Sick or Those That Tend Them

Ed, my neighbor next door, just hit one of those black weeks when feeling lousy kept getting worse. It was a nasty virus that came out of nowhere and drop-kicked Ed in the head, throat and lungs. We heard all about it from Ruby, Ed’s wife, who kept seeking refuge at our house. Ed was so sick that he whined for his mother, but she has been deceased for five years. With Ed acting in relentless petulance Ruby was torn between sympathy and murder.

Sadly, Ed’s virus was the kind that attacks like a wolverine and sticks like a miser to his last penny. First, it was aches; then chills, fever, heavy chest, sore throat and non-stop coughing; and lastly, swollen sinuses in his face. Each day, both Ed and Ruby waited for the virus to weaken, but it seemed to be just as strong every new day as the day before. When I suggested maybe Ed should see the doctor, Ruby just said, “Whose army is going to get him there?”

Why Don’t People See the Dumb Things They Are Doing?

Ed, my neighbor next door, likes to make fun of my passion for gardening and painting the outside of my house. In the middle of April, when knee-high snow still covered my garden, Ed yelled across the fence, “You better start painting your house, since you won’t get in your garden until the end June this year.”

“It’s on my to-do list,” I told him as I stopped on my way to the garbage can in the alley. “We are going to be away in May, so I’m giving you first chance at working my garden and planting the early lettuce, spinach, radishes, and peas for me. This summer, I want to paint the bottom part of my house, but I’ll let you help,” I said.

“You know I don’t garden and I spill too much paint, so count me out on both jobs,” Ed announced. “May is the wrong time to go on a trip. Why, the temperature here could be above freezing. Staying home and planting your garden is the sane thing to do,” Ed continued.

Dangerous Times for Gamblers and Preachers

Ed, my neighbor next door, calls me “the circuit rider preacher in a red car.” This happens if I leave on a Sunday morning with my briefcase and my alb. Yesterday, I rode my Pontiac to MacNutt and then Langenburg in the relentlessly falling snow. I left at 8:30 a.m. and got home just before 4 p.m., so Ed had to come over to find out where I had been all day.

The first question Ed asked was, “Who had to suffer through your preaching today?” Ed likes to claim that preaching is the safest job in the world for the preacher, but those in the congregation could die of boredom. Ed says that even in the old lawless West, sheriffs and gamblers got shot, but not preachers.

Birthday Cake

Ed, my neighbor next door, almost passed out from shock when I took him a huge piece of my birthday cake. I wish I could confess that it was solely a generous offer of sharing. The sorry truth is that I had to get rid of its temptation before I ate more of it. We have been on a diet for what seems like years only to experience a miracle for my birthday. My wife baked a chocolate cake that smelled wonderful baking and looked too good not eat, even without icing. I like to blame the torture and starvation of the diet as to why I had a piece of cake hot from the oven and then more pieces for lunch and supper and before bed. On my birthday, I ate nearly half of my birthday cake.

Needless to say, I suffered with a restless sleep and a rolling stomach from eating too much cake.