Down In Sheets Of Linen

As a temporary concession to our archive problem I've doubled the page size, which is going to drive reader Bob a little crazy. I'm sorry, Bob! I'll put everything back when the simple stuff starts making sense again. In the meantime, the here and now is rather odd.

When I returned from Virginia, the driver's side rear tire on my car was flat. I was confused because the tire that'd disappointed me twice a week before I departed was the passenger's front. If your eyes are glazing over, imagine Siobhan answering the phone with, "Which is it today?" Yes, it's a bore. So I inflated the rear tire and it deflated with extreme prejudice. Inflated. Deflated. Inflated. Deflated. After wailing, "Why can't we all just get along?" I took it to the mechanic, who pronounced it my first flat in ages he understood.

Him: When you take the nail out and plug the hole it works a lot better!
Tata: Yahtzee!

Rational explanations are good for what ails me.