A chilly 107 degrees here today. When will we be able to put away the sweaters?
Actually, that’s about normal for lovely uptown Phoenix: a little warmer than it used to be at this time of year, but pretty much on target here where we’ve paved paradise and put up a whole lot of parking lots. Speaking of balmy.
Had a fairly balmy episode this morning — balmy as in wacksh!t. On the way out of the house to walk the dogs, a little after dawn, what should I see on the sidewalk outside the side gate to the courtyard but this, chalked on the sidewalk:
Alien message to incoming fellow invaders?
Well, just a few days ago we were (again) told by some of the most flamboyant “journalists” on the planet — makers of Britain’s favorite tabloids — that burglars like to mark houses that they’ve targeted with hobo-style symbols, for the benefit of their accomplices. Don’t ask why any halfway bright burglar ring would do this when they all have cell phones. But whatEVER.
Anything’s believable when you’re being dragged up the street by two dwarf sheepdogs at five in the morning.
Suspicions were confirmed a bit later, when we ran into two BoB’s: burglars on bikes. This pair rides around on a couple of hot-looking bicycles — we use the word “hot” advisedly — conspicuously casing the locals’ homes. The two are so bold they don’t even try to be subtle about it. Undoubtedly they’ve placed the Funny Farm on their list.
In the suspicions confirmed department: it is indeed impossible to get out of Costco for less than $200. That, after all, is a conservative estimate.
It was time for the monthly Costco Junket with my friends, ever a great adventure. The cupboards were about bare…the only shelves still furnished held toilet paper and paper towels. Steak, fish, chicken; veggies frozen, veggies fresh; fruit and berries fresh; nuts, bagged; maple syrup, packed in plastic fake jug; and…of course…one set of sheets.
Hey! How can you turn down a set of battleship-gray 100% cotton Kirkland sheets? Battleship gray, the height of style. Right up there with eye-searing white.
$300, all told.
Meanwhile, speaking of phenomenal amounts of cash, the dishwasher has started making a weird noise when its water valve comes on. Dropped by B&B Appliances and learned that, yea verily, there are effectively no dishwashers being made anymore that actually get your dishes clean. With, that is, the possible exception of Bosch. Replacing the one I have will cost around $1,000. Not counting tax. Not counting installation.
When I bought the thing 14 years ago, I had a job and could afford these indulgences. Not so much, these days.
So it’s beginning to look like the future holds another Great Step Backward into our grandparents’ lifestyle: the dishwasher is about to become the most expensive dish draining rack in North America.
Various friends’ efforts to come up with schemes to get me reinstated in Facebook have proven fruitless. That comes under the heading of “no great loss.”
Absent Facebook, a great deal more productive work gets done. For a person who didn’t want to sign up for the thing to start with, I certainly got sucked in to diddling away a phenomenal amount of time.
Two of the three books I’ve been posting at Plain & Simple Press were already complete at the time the idea took form. But the third, Ella’s Story, was (and is) very much a work in progress.
By the time of the Great Exit, I’d posted most of the copy and was barely keeping up with the weekly “publication” scheme. But now I’m already two chapters ahead. And even managed, finally, to get Ella into the sack with her…friend.
At this rate I may actually finish the thing.
Well. If I ever figure out where it’s going.