Coffee heat rising

Jobs We’re Glad We Don’t Have…

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Oh, my goodness!!!!!  How DO some folks survive?

Just visited by a lovely plumber, employed by the City of Phoenix. The guy is going around working on the water meters, which reside in holes in the ground in our front yards. As we scribble, Wunderground says it’s a chilly 85 degrees out there (and yeah: that IS chilly for this time of year…), overcast with a 32% chance of rain.

My water meter is installed underground. So the guy has gotta grunt and groan around to get at it. Then do the job. Then put the thing back together. Then get everything re-installed…underground.

Am I impressed by these guys? Lemme tellya impressed. 

He took the contraption apart. Did the work on it. Put it back together. I trotted out to tell him the terlet didn’t seem to be working right. He trudged inside the house. Tested everything. Saw to it that the system was indeed working. And…yeah: trudged back into the heat.

Man! Do I appreciate the work that guy does! Looks like the whole thing is now working perfectly.

Amazing!

Fried and Fricaseed!

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Just stumbled in the door from a good hour and & a half of traipsing through THE most gawdawful heat!

Temp out there, actually, is just not that hot. Only 94 degrees. But the humidity is at 9 percent. When the temp is at that level, a little humidity feels like a LOT of humidity!  Whew!

Hiked up to the mall to the north of the ‘Hood, where I hoped to talk with a storefront lawyer there about some minor matter. Of course, he was long gone. So was just about anyone else.

Blech! Will have to traipse up there again tomorrow morning.

Oh, Helle’s Belles! I only just noticed this is Sunday!!! Heeeeee! No wonder no one was there!!!!!

Oh well. Got some exercise, anyway.

If the temp had been about 10 degrees cooler, it would’ve been a lovely day for a  nice, long walk. Gorgeous clear skies. Clean, clean air. Kids playing. Sun shining.

Oh, well….

Time to Move Along?

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Things have started to happen….things that suggest it’s time to move along.

To start with, apparently some employee at the corner Albertson’s supermarket took it into their head that I’ve been shoplifting from that store.

Uh..noooo….  Got better things to steal than groceries and cheap junk. How exactly that happened escapes me. Either someone who is Not My Friend told management there that I’m a thief, or someone who looks like me has been ripping off the place. One way or the other: that lets out the largest and best-stocked supermarket in the neighborhood as a shopping venue for me.

Another large supermarket resides to the north of the Funny Farm, about the same distance away. It’s in a seedier neighborhood, though: I’m not very comfortable walking around up there.

This leaves as the only viable nearby grocery store a large Sprouts.

It’ll do…though I’m less than fond of Sprouts. It’s not as well stocked as the Albertson’s or the Safeway…and I’ve had some seriously creepy experiences in that store’s parking lot.

Sooo…I dunno. Now I’m starting to think maybe I should move away from here. 

But where?

Down to my son’s neighborhood?  It’s a pretty, older, and quaint little district. Houses were built before there was such a thing as air-conditioning, and so they’re hot in the summer and cold in the winter. And their power bills are hot, all right: sizzling hot. Crime level is relatively high, too.

On the other hand, his place is an easy walk to the beloved AJ’s Fancy-Dan gourmet supermarket. In more affordable realms, it’s also fairly close to a Fry’s market.

Still… another reason to stay in my present parts is the veterinarian. Within easy walking distance, we have what appears to be an excellent vet — I have yet to find a reason to complain, anyway. And his office is close enough that, if forced to it, I actually can carry Ruby down there.

Reasons to exit, stage left?

Well, we have a few of those, and their number is growing. The a$$-hole who has taken to raiding my front patio and stealing my hummingbird feeders, for example. He has won: all the surviving bird feeders have been moved to the back yard. Those that haven’t been thoroughly washed and put away in closets, that is.

Tony’s rentals, of course, remain a bit of a nuisance. He’s simmered down quite a bit, though. The other day he was actually friendly to me, and he’s moved the delinquents out of the house across the street. So that really is no longer much of an issue.

The racket from the ambulances and fire engines racing around the nearby hospitals: yeah. Still there. Not much of an issue for me: I’ve grown accustomed to their melody and am no longer bothered by it. Frankly, I’d rather hear an ambulance siren than the roar of a war jet blasting overhead…any day. And in Sun City you get that latter melody, all right…every day..

Really: Sun City is just not my style. I detested living there with my parents, and you can be sure I don’t wanna go back now that I’m in my dotage.

S000…not knowing which way to jump just now, I reckon the best bet is not to jump at all. And we shall see what we shall see…

Seven Kinds o’ Hell

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Yech!!!!!!!  It’s lightly over-cast this afternoon and a chilly 85 degrees on the back porch. Mildly humid. And that translates, in Arizona lingo, to hotter than Hell. 

Seriously: it’s a freakin’ sauna out there. Just got back from a hike to and around my favorite local stores. And when we say “hike,” we ain’t kiddin’. I’d say the total came to a good three miles. At least. Down to the ‘Hood’s south border, past the church, downward ever downward to Main Drag South. Through the shopping center parking lot, around and around and around the HUGE supermarket. Finally out the door. Northerly northerly northerly back up to our part of the ‘Hood. Through the church parking lot. Past the apartments where my mother once wanted me to rent, northerly northerly northerly…finally reaching our street. Hiking, hiking, hiking…oh my GAWD!  

Hot? Lemme tellya hot.

About to faint by the time we reach our street, hiking easterly easterly until AT LAST we reach our north-south access road. Northerly northerly northerly, past houses with beautiful young kids playing in the yards <3, past the fine young neighbors’ places, up to the WonderAccountants’ place: straight across the street from the Funny Farm.

Damn near pass out as we reach the front door. Wrestle with two deadbolts. FINALLY get into the (mercifully!!!) air-conditioned house.

Ruby is waiting. She seems OK…uhm…I think. But the Human isn’t: the Human is about to fukkin’ die of heat exhaustion.

Stagger into the kitchen. Fill up a wine glass with ice and…and…oh what the Hell! pour a slug of white wine over it. Serve up half a can of dawg food. Turn on every fan in the room and collapse in front of one of them thar fans.

Thinking how much I miss San Francisco. How much I miss my relatives’ place in Berkeley. Why, dear God, WHY do I live in this Hell?

Oh. Because my son is here!

And oh: because I can’t afford to live in Berkeley. Or Sausalito. Or Richmond. Or most certainly not San Francisco. All the places I came from. All places I imagine I belong.

My gawd, I hate Arizona. Especially at this time of (the overheated!!) year. And this time of year — April — will extend through the end of September. Six richly hate-worthy months. 

What. A. Horrible. Place.

Get the F*** Off My Phone and….

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Mid-morning. This is the hour when every goddamn phone solicitor residing in the state prison system gets on the phone and heckles you, heckles you, and heckles you some more. GodDAYUM, but I hate that.

A couple of things discourage them and cut the onslaught of nuisance calls a bit. One is to simply BLAST THE BEJYZUZ out of the bastards’ ears. Get a loud horn and HONK it into the damn phone. This hurts, on their end. They make a note not to call your number again.

For me, this requires me to have a loud horn in every room: I have five phone extensions in this house.  That just adds to the nuisance factor. But I’ve learned that you can accomplish the same effect simply by SCREAMING into the goddamn phone AS LOUD AS YOU CAN. Most of the phone soliciting clowns have headphones on, so SHRIEKING into the phone blasts the bastards in both ears. 😀

And that does seem to work. I get many fewer nuisance phone calls these days, since I’ve started blasting the bastards with the loudest noise I can generate on short notice. So apparently it’s true that at least some of them have a system that flags numbers to avoid calling.

But man, do I ever HATE those goddamn nuisance phone calls. It ought to be against the law to make soliciting phone calls: period. That it’s not tells you how effective the nuisance businesses’ lobbying strategy is.

Some people, I understand, simply no longer answer the phone. They let it ring through to the answering machine and then pick up if and when they hear someone they’re willing to speak with. Tried that: found it to be more of a nuisance than the nuisance calls themselves. Like I have nothing else to do but eavesdrop on my answering machine? And then sit there and erase the messages it’s recorded?

Anyway, generating the LOUDEST NOISE YOU CAN INVENT and blasting it into the phone really does cut down on the number of pestiferizing calls. I’ve gone from upwards of 8 or 10 a day to maybe 2 or 3 in the morning.

Phone soliciting should be illegal.

Bing Bong!!$$!

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Yeah: come the middle of the lunch hour (you thought you were gonna be allowed to have something to eat??), BING BONG goes the doorbell.

Forgodsake. City water meter guy.

He descends on the equipment. Bop bop bang bang fix fiddle fiddle... They’re gonna bill me for his services, sez he.

Whaddaya bet that’ll be a couple hundred bucks. Or more….

No idea what he was supposedly repairing. No leak. No…nothing that I can tell is on the fritz.

Except, presumably, my bank account….