Take a Deep Breath

The problem with the cankerworm spray is that it has to be administered by loud, low-flying yellow planes that show up when you go out for a run.

See, cankerworms are these little creepy crawly things that get up into your trees and eat the leaves. So people put these sticky bands on their tree trunks in the hope that the worms will crawl across and get stuck.

The problem has become, and I am not making this up, that there are so many dead worms on some of those bands that the live worms are crawling on their carcasses to get to the top of the tree. Seriously.

So, the City of Charlotte decided to hire some folks to fly over neighborhoods at an altitude of about 200 feet and spread what appears to be Agent Orange. We're told it will have the opposite effect.

It should work. So we're told. We're also told it's perfectly safe. It sort of smells like that stuff companies spray on lawns to make them greener. Full disclosure though: I ran past a lot of lawns this morning.

This stuff (called Bt) is also supposed to leave a residue on your car. And in your mouth, apparently. I could taste it this morning when I had my first cup of coffee.

If nothing else, it was my first close encounter with a low flying plane while running in at least three years. When I used to go running in Charleston, W.Va., Air Force One would be circling overhead. I'm not kidding. It used Yeager Airport to practice landings.

The problem, apparently, lay with the people who hadn't so much as turned on the news or opened a newspaper over the last month. They freaked out. They called 911. At least one person thought Charlotte was under attack.

“Have you got a lot of phone calls about a little yellow airplane that flew over Independence Blvd?"

Dispatcher: "Sir, they're spraying for the worms. It's been all over the news and the papers.

Caller: "Oh my god, it scared the crap out of me. It's flying through the trees there.”

I'll admit: it wasn't quite like North By Northwest. But it did make me duck for cover and rue the day that cankerworms ruined my morning run.

Also, I need to make a date with the car wash. And my mouthwash.

Moving Heavy Things Up Stairs

There comes a time in every man's life when he realizes that his friends are basically just movers that he can pay with beer.

Friday night, I need to move a dresser and I can't find anybody to do it, save Dave, who really has nothing better to do. So Dave comes over and we haul the old one out and throw it in a truck that I'd borrowed. God bless Dave.

Mind you, this is for a dresser that is identical to the one I already owned. The one I already owned had an unsightly crack straight through one of the legs. I find another one as Dave and I moved it down the stairs. We're probably responsible for that one.

The new one is basically a 180 pound box that's about an inch too wide and surprisingly awkward. It's hard to carry even with no obstacles in your way.

The box is angry at us. It pins Dave into a corner at one point. Two minutes later, Dave slams it up a set of stairs and directly into my lower leg. If not for years of milk-drinking, my tibia would have shattered. On the spot.

Next, we can't turn the box in my narrow stairwell. We try it anyway. Pockmarks and scratches result. My banister becomes suspiciously loose. But we make it up the stairs.

I throw Dave a beer. I grab one too. I used a coaster when I put it on the coffee table. I don't want to have to move that down the stairs any time soon.