Funny about Money

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. ―Edmund Burke

Gooood morning, America…

Aaarghhh! 😀 It was a good morning in America, till my fine failing memory scotched it up. Yesterday afternoon when I put a pot of sun tea to steep on the flagstones by the BBQ, I said to my hot (indeed) little self, “Remember to bring that in lest the dogs bash it running around.”

Seems like a reasonable thought, doesn’t it?

The dogs usually go out the side door at any time other than early morning, because it’s shadier and cooler on the side of the house. In the morning they go out the back door. And any time they go out, they FLY out the door like two rockets competing to see which will get to the moon first.

Naturally what with the distraction of an entire day of singing and then a church potluck, I forgot the tea. When I staggered in the house yesterday evening, only one thing was on my mind: Fall face-down into the sack!

That’s my excuse and I’m stickin’ with it.

So, continuing the “Naturally” trail, we get home from running a mile. I toss off my clothes so as to jump into the pool, fling open the pack door, and the rockets FLY out the door in their accustomed style.

And they SLAM into the damn bottle of tea, which flips over, explodes, and scatters tiny razor-sharp shards of glass all over the quarter-minus.

For those of you who live in more civilized climes: Quarter-minus is finely ground gravel mixed with sand. It’s used to ape the natural look of the ancient desert floor in xeric landscsping.

What a MESS!

So I have to spend a half-hour cleaning up that menace.

First, check dogs: they seem not to have cut their feet and I can’t find any shards of glass stuck in their pads. That’s something, anyway. I guess.

Now it’s BOLT down breakfast, because I have to get out of here at 7:30 to take the car to Chuck’s for an oil change. That is about 12 minutes from right now, as we scribble.

Chuck’s 8 a.m. appointment means that I have to do this wack-sh!t jig to get out of the ‘hood. You can’t turn left off the main north-south drags that flank the ‘hood, except for Conduit of Blight, which is blocked by the damned train, which means you’ll have a five-minute wait at any left-turn signal. The train renders Conduit of Blight pretty much nonnavigable south of Gangbanger’s Way.

So to get to a road where I can reach Chuck’s garage, I have to drive through three neighborhoods to reach a southbound road that I can turn left off of, or drive through two neighborhoods, go a half-mile north, go east on Gangbanger’s Way all the way to 12th Street, then go south on 12th (adding another half-mile, meaning I have to drive a mile out of my way to accomplish this jig) to neighborhood street where Chuck’s resides (you can’t turn left into Chuck’s from the main drag that his garage fronts on, either), park in the alley behind the garage, walk in, and let the boys know I’m in their precincts.

So 12th Street is a half-mile east of Chuck’s. This latter route, then, entails having to go TWO MILES out of my way every time I take the car for an oil change.

In other words, our fine green-thinking City Parents’ traffic control schemes ADD to the air pollution and gas consumption problem that they supposedly address. You can be sure that if one little old lady is driving out of her way to go in the direction that she needs to go, so are a whole lotta other people.

Makes Yarnell look mighty good, doesn’t it?

Yarnell doesn’t even have stop signs. That’s how huge it is.

And so, away…to do battle with the effing rush-hour traffic! A good morning to you, too, America…

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Author: funny

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