Just stick my dainty little foot into the pool when I hear eeeeeEEEEEEEeeeeeouououououou, loud and frantic, from over at Conduit of Blight Boulevard. Oh well: another happening. Car wreck, apartment fire, heart attack, OD…
Didn’t sound like an ambulance or a fire engine, though.
Before I can dive off the step into the drink ROAOAOAOAOAOAOAORRRRRRR!!!!!! Cop helicopter blasts over at rooftop height.
Shit. I’m buck nekkid (not that there’s much left to see… 😀 ) and damn it, ALL i want to do is dip in the drink long enough to cool off after a long, tedious day before I dump two packages of shock treatment into the water.
Now he starts to circle over the ‘hood. He’s about a block to the north, ranges maybe two blocks north: parks right over my old house.
One of the reasons I moved out of that house was the Friday and Saturday night flyovers. Literally every Friday and Saturday night, you could set your clock by the 11 p.m. flyover. But it’s only 7 p.m., pretty early for the weekly perp chase. Something serious must be going on.
More sirens sound.
Heat rinsed out of my hair, I climb out of the puddle and chase all three dogs into the house. Check that all the security doors are locked. Yeah: the painter and I did leave the side door to the garage open. Lock.
The painter is doing a very nice job. He’s charging a pretty penny, but I’m willing to pay it because he’s working in THE most gawdawful weather, and he’s about my age. I couldn’t do that on a bet, nor would I.
It is sooooooo damn hot, and all of us who live here are sooooo damn sick of being hot all the time.
Today in addition to heaving around outside he laid on a third coat of gray paint in the hallway, this time successfully covering the last of the orange. It really looks very nice: a huge improvement that will improve the house’s potential saleability, should I decide to decamp.
Which is something I consider every time the cops do one of their alarming air attacks.