Windshield Wiper Saga It wasn't such a difficult task to start with, but I have one of those minds that can tie simple things into knots. Take the windshield wipers, for instance.

I was driving in the rain when the piece that holds the spring in place wore out and the spring fell out. The wiper continued to slosh the rainwater around, but it wouldn't press tightly against the windshield, so it didn't make it much easier to see.

All I had to do was go to the junkyard, or the dealer, and get a new one. Just one nut would need to be removed and replaced. But no, I just leave the broken wiper there. After all, it's just on the passenger side. I leave it there for months, carefully guarding the broken spring as if I might weld it back in place in an emergency. Now, off and on, I'm compulsive about things, such as clean windshields: those seem important to me. So, hastily squeegeeing the windshield, I reach over and ... a two-dollar cleaning tool breaks the good wiper, on the driver's side. And the forecast for today is ... snow!

I drive it to work anyway and get this great plan to fix it over lunch break: I'll take a replacement wiper from a friend's junk vehicle. I think, we should experiment with the more broken wiper, but no, that would be too smart. So the friend gets some vise grips and removes the nut. Oops, the nut comes off with part of the bolt attached—that's bad. Then the friend notices that this wiper arm was fine, and only the rubber part needed replacing. But that was before the bolt was broken; now the whole assembly link, which connects the wipers to the wiper motor, has to be replaced.

No problem, except that the wrong dealer parts come in, I finally go to the junkyard after all and get the right ones, and then a mechanically smart person helps me install them. And they're fine—hooray.

I learned a lot about how windshield wipers work, but my own mind—that requires further study. Here is a question from the text aids: What's the problem with the windshield wipers?
A.
The writer keeps breaking them instead of fixing them.
B.
The writer gets bad parts at the junkyard.
C.
A lot of bad weather makes fixing the wipers difficult.

the answer is: tabard inn, southwark.

in "the canterbury tales," by geoffrey chaucer, the twenty-nine diverse group of pilgrims is staying at a tavern in southwark, london, as they are traveling to canterbury. they wish to visit the relics of saint thomas becket in canterbury   cathedral in order to him for his when they underwent necessities.

can you finish the question hun

answer:   a good wench, give it me.

iago

good girl, give it to me.

emilia

what will you do with ’t, that you have been so earnest

325to have me filch it?

emilia

and what are you going to do with it? why did you want it so much that you begged me to steal it?

iago

  why, what is that to you?

iago

what’s it to you?

emilia

if it be not for some purpose of import,

give ’t me again. poor lady, she’ll run mad

when she shall lack it.

emilia

if you don’t need it for some important reason, then give it back to me. poor lady, she’ll go crazy when she sees it’s missing.

iago

be not acknown on ’t,

330i have use for it. go, leave me.

iago

don’t admit to knowing anything about it. i need it. now go, leave me.

exit emilia

emilia exits.

i will in cassio’s lodging lose this napkin

and let him find it. trifles light as air

are to the jealous confirmations strong

as proofs of holy writ. this may do something.

335the moor already changes with my poison.

dangerous conceits are in their natures poisons

which at the first are scarce found to distaste,

but with a little act upon the blood

burn like the mines of sulfur.

i’ll leave this handkerchief at cassio’s house and let him find it.to a jealous man, a meaningless little thing like this looks like absolute proof. this handkerchief may be useful to me. the moor’s mind has already become infected with my poisonous suggestions. ideas can be like poisons. at first they hardly even taste bad, but once they get into your blood they start burning like hot lava.

enter othello

othello enters.

    i did say so.

340look, where he comes. not poppy nor mandragora

nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,

shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep

which thou owedst yesterday.

here he comes. no drugs or sleeping pills will ever give you the restful sleep that you had last night.

othello

    ha! ha! false to me?

othello

argh! she’s cheating on me?

iago

why, how now, general? no more of that.

iago

oh, general, , no more of that!

explanation: