The convenience of a garage door opener may have made us soft, but it really is a hassle to have to drag one’s ass out of the car and lift the bitch by hand. Every. Single. Time. For about six months.
Well, no more. We finally got around to buying a new lifter Monday, and my father-in-law came over to help me install it. Which is to say that I stood around/got in the way/ordered Jimmy John’s while he installed it. Well, he did let me program the entry pad code, which for security reasons I will not reveal here.
And the thing locks, too, so at last I can restart the counterfeit jeans ring I used to run out of my carhole.
