Ahh the joys of renting. Imagine (as John and I did) getting a call at midnight from a renter complaining that the electricity went down. Or that the air conditioning broke. Or that you don’t have the emergency number for the local electrician. Or that you don’t know where the damn breaker panel is in the dark basement and where is that light switch for the basement anyway??? Actually, we didn’t have to imagine any of that since it all happened to my wife and I last summer. We did have to imagine what it would be like to be on the other side of the equation. To be the owner. When all this went down last summer, it was even worse. The owner was vacationing in Japan. I call, the owner answers. Owner with a sleepy voice: Do you know what time it is here??? Me: “No.”

At any rate Sam and Shellie will surely figure it out. Or not. Today’s “Cabin Rental 3” is the last comic in the Cabin Rental series. Which is more of a relief to Shellie and Sam than to John and me.

Our other comic also comes from something that happened to me and my wife. Here’s the way it goes. Something bad or annoying happens to me and I get pissed off. Then 5 minutes later, I think, oh well, at least this might make a good comic. Then I call up John and tell him what happened and we decide whether or not it’s comic-worthy, kind of like Elaine from Seinfeld deciding if a potential lover is “sponge-worthy.” In this case, we decided it was. The same holds true for John. When something messed up happens to him, he tells me and we go through the same process. Comic-worthy or not. By the way, you can usually tell which comic comes from which person’s experience. If it’s about indoor stuff like moving into a condo, getting a pedicure, or trying to kick dinner guests out of your house because you want to start the Knick game on tape delay, it’s probably from me. If it’s outside, like using a chainsaw, a weed burner, or building a bear-proof bird feeder, well, that’s from John. And then sometimes, actually a lot of times, we just make shit up.

I took my wife to an 18,000 seat arena to see Steely Dan opening for the Eagles. Personally I think the Eagles should have opened for Steely Dan, but that’s a topic for another blog. In this case we parked, I took out my phone and hit the “Find My Car” app and clicked. A couple hours (and gummies) later, we had no idea where the damn car was. The app didn't work because I had failed to click some browser box earlier. I remembered what section (G3), but for the life of me and my wife, we couldn’t figure out what floor the car was on. It took almost 40 minutes to track down the car, but at least when we did find it, most of the traffic had thinned out.

That’s it for this week. Have a Happy Thanksgiving and if you’re visiting relatives, please remember where the hell you parked!

Andy and John