So the day that I began describing this morning has trundled on. And on. And on.
Now it’s late afternoon. Hotter than a two-dollar cookstove out there. No kidding: As we scribble, the back porch thermometer registers 110 degrees in the shade of the back porch overhang!
Yeah: that’s 110 in the shade! 😮
WHAT a place, eh?
Today has been quiet…probably because it’s too damn hot for anybody to get up to any hijinks. 😀
But I’ll tellya: the hijinks of recent days are still eating at my nerves. Enough, I might remark, that for brief periods I seriously consider piling my stuff and the dawg in the car and driving outta here.
Where would “outta here” be?
I dunno. Grand Junction, Colorado, is a pleasant enough venue. A little cold in the winter. A little hickish. But a LONG way from here, and in another state. Presumably out of Arizona’s jurisdiction.
That those two social-worker women who showed up here had, in hand, a record of the night that SDXB and I got into a fight and I stalked off down an alley, ending up at a neighbor’s place…WOW!
Sorry, folks, but THAT scares the Hell outta me. That little flap happened years ago! How much else does Big Brother have on me? And what can be done with that “else”?
Jayzuz!
Haven’t yet decided what, if anything, to do about this. I don’t want to leave, for two reasons:
* Most important, I absolutely don’t want to leave M’Hijito behind. I love my son, relish his company, and do NOT want to sever relations with him…or even to put any distance between us.
* And I love my home. It’s perfect for me and the dawg, probably the most pleasant place I’ve ever lived in, and you may be sure I do not want to leave. This place is where I want to live until I die.
Which I expect will not be soon!
Seriously: That sounds overweening. But I’ve known several women who have lived here in the ‘Hood, all by their little old selves, dwelling in these houses well into advanced old age. Most notable was my first neighbor here. She was in her 90s when her son carted her off to an old-folkerie — WELL into her 90s. And going strong.
But after her, I’ve also known several others who’ve been able to stay here into their dotage, as the young pups have moved into these houses, fixed them up, and jacked up the property values. A-n-n-d…
…I love young pups and enjoy having them as neighbors.
…As they upgrade the houses, they jack up property values all around them, which means that…
….When I croak over, my son will inherit a house worth A WHOLE LOT more than I paid for it, and a whole lot more than one would expect inflation to increase that value.
I want him to get the benefit of that sharp increase in value. And that’s one reason (far from the only one!) that I hope to stay here through my dotage and until I die: Money, honey! 😀
The cost of locking me up in the desired old-folkerie would absorb every penny we get from sale of this house…and then some. The longer I survive to take up space there, the more of my savings will be taken away from me.
And, at the risk of repeating myself: I want those savings to go to my son, not to some damn depressing institution!