First one shoe drops, then another, then ..

What I'm about to tell you will sound all too familiar to anyone with hair the color of a swan's wing.

You know what happens when one shoe drops? You wait for the other one to drop, too. But then there are those series of events where not-so-good things happen until there is a big pile of shoes on the floor.

Let's go back to Christmas. That would be Christmas Day, to be exact. My wife and I were on our way midafternoon to our church, which serves a community meal on this special holiday each year. We were going to help set up, serve food, dispense beverages -- whatever needed to be done. That's when we discovered our sewer was backing up in the basement.

Folks, I don't need to tell you that "Christmas" and "sewer" do not belong in the same sentence.

I called a plumber and immediately received a call back. I apologized for having to have the plumber out on Christmas, but his cheery response: "That's why we're here." We told him we had to leave the house, but our plumber has -- like so many others -- a key to our house. Be sure to lock up when you leave, I said.

Well, it turned out we needed a new sewer if we wanted to put a stop to unscheduled visits from the plumber. So we said, "yes." This meant digging a trench 10 or 12 feet deep from our house to the street. As it turns out, whoever built our house in the 1950s thought it would be a good idea to put the sewer under the front sidewalk.

We not only had to have the sewer replaced, but also had to have a new sidewalk poured.

I count that as two shoes.

But wait. There's more, as they say on those commercials for Ginsu knives.

When the big windstorm came through town the other day, it blew down about a third of our elm tree. The limbs landed in our neighbor's driveway, cutting them off from the street. A call to the tree remover brought a quick response on a very busy -- and frigidly cold -- day. The tree remover said the whole tree should come down. Although the tree is only 50 or 60 years old, it was showing its age. The rest of the tree, if it blew down, would likely land on our house.

Goodbye, old and faithful elm.

Then one of our cars started acting funny. It sometimes burped. And even though I know nothing about auto mechanics, I know cars aren't supposed to burp. Or cough. Or spit. Our car wasn't well.

Off to the auto dealership I went. The mechanic soon discovered the problem and told me how much the repairs would cost. "OK," I said. Did I have a choice?

When I returned home, I noticed the house seemed unusually cool. We turn the thermostat down to 65 at night, so we're accustomed to cool mornings. But the house heats up quickly when we turn up the thermostat. Not this time.

So I called the furnace shop, which dispatched a genial fellow who, thank goodness, had the part needed to make a repair. Soon the house was cozy again.

Let's see. Sewer. Sidewalk. Storm damage. Tree removal. Car repair. Furnace part. I'm up to six shoes already.

I mentioned at coffee last week that I had written more checks in the past two months than I had signed in the previous two years.

Now I'm looking at my feet. Guess what. I need new shoes.

Ain't life grand?

Joe Sullivan is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.