Whack Attack

My life mission became clear in the late 1970’s when I discovered the arcade game Whac-A-Mole. As I delete one email, two more pop up. For every weed I pull in the front yard, two more spring up in the backyard. Whacking the moles of life is a continuous losing battle. If I plug the water leaking through my den window, the kitchen light sizzles to its death. If I jerry rig the front door so it will not stick, the closet door and garage door become stuck. I do not know how these breakdowns are interconnected but the Designer of my Whac-A-Mole life is an incredibly talented magician. I am aware that other whackers on different levels of the game are visited by bigger and faster moles so I should mention that I am not complaining. But I am complaining. In fact, I am whining which is worse because it leads directly to more moles. I whack my plumbing with such force that I have been known to back up the sewage in neighboring communities. I should be fixing the vents to the furnace right now but I am afraid to tinker with them because in the past, I learned fooling with those vents causes the deck to warp and the entry way tile to crack. Whack, whack, whack.