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One of Those Days, Continued…

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LOL! When I remarked in this morning’s squib that this was gonna be one of those days, I wasn’t far off the mark. 😀

Ohhh well. It’s entertaining, anyway.

Strolled up to a favorite store in the nearby shopping center, there to ask the sales clerk if my driver’s license actually is valid. He thought so. However he did suggest I should take it down to the Department of Motor Vehicles and ask them to confirm.

This — ohhhh delight! — will entail a half-hour drive each way, through fine city traffic, and then a wait in line that will consume half of eternity. So….next time I have a collection of hours to kill, I’ll take on that chore. 😀

Hotter than the Hubs of Hades just now, and very damp. So this was perhaps not the best of all possible mornings to engage a walk through the ‘Hood, across a main drag, and into a fairly dreary suburban mall.

BUT…. It was surprisingly entertaining.

This neighborhood, which was firmly middle-class when I moved in here some years ago, is MADLY gentrifying. Oh, my goodness!  Almost every house is being fancified in one way or another.

No kidding. Most of the houses have recently been freshly painted. Rooms have been added. Roofs have been redone. Yards have been relandscaped…on and on and on.

And y’know what?  If I stay in this place until I croak over — another ten or fifteen years, at the outside — my son is gonna inherit a house that is worth a sh!tload of money!

My shack is paid off. By the time he gets in here, his place probably will be, too — assuming he doesn’t move someplace fancier. So that means that barring a major financial depression, when he gets this house, it’s gonna be a substantial asset. He’ll be able to…well…think of the possibilities!

* Sell both houses (his and mine) and move to San Francisco!
* Rent one house and use the income to pay the mortgage on his house.
* Rent both houses and move to San Francisco…or Hawaii…or Paris…or wherever.
* Retire early, put his feet up, and never work again.
* Start a whole new career in a whole new business.

Or who knows what else?

So…I’m pretty excited for him.

Otherwise…what else to report? Rather little: it’s a hot, muggy, overcast, gray day. Even inside the (madly!) air-conditioned house, it’s dim and stuffy. Even with three table fans aimed at me.

Reclining in the fridge, a handsome slab of fresh salmon awaits the dinner hour. If it’s not raining by then, it can go right on the barbecue. Failing that, I suppose…what??? Well…I’ll think of something then, if I have to. 

Trying Again…

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And again…and again…and again….  Not even eight in the morning, and this has turned into One of Those Days! Nothing you try to do goes right!  Right?

Human & Dog are just back from a seemingly endless walk through a swampy morning. Around the park and through the ‘Hood. The air is so wet it feels soggy. Other folks are walking their pesky dogs, too. Here comes some clown with not one but TWO pit bulls, towing him down the street.

Cross over to the other side of the road.

Pass the house where the scion of the family got into trouble with the law, f*cking some under-age chickadee. Wrecked their lives. They seem to have lost their home. And whoever bought it is just letting it sit there. They’ve done some upgrades, in a passing way…but…there it sits. An abandoned mess.

Trudge and trudge and trudge through the wet morning. Evade two other dog-loving folk of the “they just wanna pwayyyy” variety. Godlmighty, WHY are people so STUPID? Get past them without a dog fight: that’s refreshing.

Racket from Luke Air Force Base roars through the morning air, adding to the (un)lovely ambience. Reminds me of my mother…

My, how she loved Sun City. So much so that she included the blasting of jet engines in the purview of her love. She actually liked to sit out on her screened back porch and listen to that endless R-R-O-O-A-R-R emanating from Luke Air Force Base, a few miles west of their home.

Every. Goddam. Morning.

To give you a clue: here at the Funny Farm, we’re a good twenty miles away from Luke, and that racket sounds like it’s just down the road.

“It’s the sound of freedom!” she used to simper.

Nooo, Muther. It’s the sound of World War III, comin’ your way. 

Why are people so damn stupid?

Seriously: it never seemed to occur to her that ONE bomb could wipe out her pretty little home, her shopping centers, her L.A-style city, and…her.

****

Upwards of an hour has passed. Not only is it NOT getting lighter outdoors, it seems to be getting DARKER.

I need to get off my duff, walk down to the Albertson’s, and get the covid booster that’s about to be massively overdue. How do I not wanna? Let me count the ways…

Yup. This is going to be one of those days. 

Joys of Olde Age

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Grrrrrrr!!!!!!  Have you noticed that as you get older, you find it harder and harder to get routine things done?

The stupidest things become major freakin’ hassles!

6:15 this morning: 

Charging around the backyard, trying to get the potted plants watered before the dog and I go out for this a.m.’s doggy-walk. Checking on the pool. Generally f*rting around…when OUCH!!!

A fine stab of pain in the sole of the left foot.

WTF???  Did I step on something?

Inspect the ground: yeah. Sure did: stepped on a bee that somehow had been becalmed on the pool’s Cool-Deck.

Awwww, geez. What is THAT gonna do to me?

Far as I know, I’m not allergic to bees. But it being 6:15 in the morning, don’t you just KNOW that if I’m ever gonna develop an allergy to bee stings, this will be the time!

Tromp in the house, retrieving the dog on the way. Slather pain-killer on foot.

Burning calms down a bit.

Can I get away with walking the dog? She needs her doggy-walk, and I need the exercise, too.

Put down food for the dog.

Hungry. Headachey. Slice a piece of bread for an on-the-run snack. Stale. Wouldncha know. 

Time to decide: Can I safely get away with walking around the neighborhood on the be-stung foot?

Probably. But what if I can’t?  Then what am I gonna do at 6:30 in the morning over on the far side of the ‘Hood?

Neighbors have reported coyote encounters in recent days.

Don’t you just know that if we limp out there, this morning will be the time we come nose-to-nose with one of those critters?

Ruby looks depressed. She wants to go out.

With coyotes running up & down the alleys, I can’t let her out to putter around the backyard alone.

Bees. Dogwalks. Coyotes. Park full of bums. Hunger. And the day has hardly even begun!

Loaf-ifariousness

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Loafing seems to have become the Order of the Day. Ruby is snoozing at the foot of the bed. The Human regards the mere thought of getting off the sack and doing something constructive with…well…horror.

😀

It’s a decently walkable day, actually. A mere 101° in the shade of the back porch, as we’re pushing noon.

That notwithstanding, I’m just not up for hiking to any of the three grocery stores within walking distance. Nor do I feel in the mood to pay an Uber dude to drive me to a store and wait around until I come out with a basketful of purchases.

All of it: waaaayyyy too much like work!

😀

And the fact of the matter is, we have enough canned dawg food to last for at least a week — and maybe a day or two more. The Human also has enough frozen and packaged chow to last her a week or so, too. Soooo….there really is no need to go charging out into the heat to restock the larder.

I’m thinking some Planned Loafing is in order. Decide on a menu that will last as long as Ruby’s stores will last — a week or ten days. Then figure out if some step-&-fetchit service can bring another week or ten days’ worth. And during that time? LOAF.

Loaf, loaf, loaf, and loaf some more. A civilized way of putting that would be REST. 

Rest until the sore hip heals up (if it will)

Rest until the peripheral neuropathy stops buzzing (if it will)

Rest until some serious swimming-pool exercises can get done (if they will)

Rest until Gerardo’s guys come around to renovate the back yard (if they will)

And so on to luxurious infinity! Seriously: just lay off throwing myself around, arrange to have Uber or another cab service schlep me around, pray for the best…and see what happens. Maybe a couple weeks of loafing will bring this spate of weird ailment to an end…

Cool Dude!

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My son: definite COOL DUDE. 

The man took time off his job(!!) to schlep me up to the Mayo Clinic, there to get a blood test. That’s a bit of a drive, and as you know, sitting around a doctor’s waiting room is always an efficient use of your time. /eyeroll/

Drove me out to the fringe of Ritzy-Titzyville, drove me home, helped with a bunch of ditz… Dang! How nice, eh?

Once left alone back here, I realized a grocery trip was in order. But…it’s hotter than the hubs out there this afternoon. So…guess I’ll wait till sunset and then make a run on the Sprouts or the Fry’s supermarket to pick up bread and dog food and whatnot.

A nuisance, but better than going out there in this heat!

Y’know…this is one of the most conveniently located neighborhoods in the city: not one, not two, but three major grocery markets within easy walking distance. Plus a veterinarian. A hair stylist. A computer store. A Bookman’s. And on and on and on. Truth to tell, between those stores and Amazon, I really hardly even need to leave my house to get my shopping done. Just call ’em on the phone and they’ll deliver!

Seriously! These days, I go into stores to shop more out of boredom than for any need to select loot.

This evening, I’ll hit the supermarket to pick up a few more cans of dog food for Ruby, a jar of maple syrup, a box of tea bags, and whatnot. None of this stuff is urgent…and so the truth is, I may not bother.

Recently the prospect of following SDXB and New Girlfriend out to Sun City has crossed my fevered little mind. But…y’know…  I don’t wanna. 

First, because it’s a bitch of a drive into this part of town from unlovely Sun City. And my son lives here, not anywhere down in that direction. I just don’t see enough of an advantage to living in Old Folks’ Central to actually move out there.

Second. because Sun City is right under the Luke Air Force Base flight path. And so…NOISE???  Lemme tellya NOISE!!!!!

The pilots start their daily practice at dawn, and the jets roar back and forth and up and down for a good four hours. You can’t sit on your back porch without being blasted off your chair.

Hilariously, my mother used to pretend she actually liked that racket. “It’s the sound of freedom!” she used to simper.

Uhm. No, Mom: it’s the sound of World War III, comin’ your way. 

She used to drive me crazy with that “sound of freedom” BS. But I guess she believed it. And hey: whatever makes ya happy, eh?

You can hear those jets blasting all the way up here in North Central: that’s a good 20 miles. Or more. The racket as heard from my parents’ back porch, 20 miles closer to the base, was freakin’ deafening. 

Ohhh well.

So here I am, all alone in fancy-Dan North Central, without any other old buzzards around to keep me company. If I’d get off my duff and go to the church, I surely would make friends and find folks to fill some time. But…well…religion isn’t really my Thing.

And truth to tell, I don’t know of anything else that goes on in the central  part of Phoenix that appeals to me.

Guess I could go back to teaching adjunct in the junior colleges.

But…uhm… Y’know…  That’s work! And I do have a moral objection to that stuff. 😉

Hiking in the nearby desert preserves fills some time. But…man! I’ve had a couple of real creepy experiences up there, and so these days feel little enthusiasm for tromping around the foothills by myself. My friends have all moved to Sun City and waypoints, or else passed away. And so just now I don’t know anyone who would like to keep me company (and act as de facto bodyguard) on those early-morning, pre-hot hours strolls.

Alas, Cool Dude fills his daytime hours with that job of his. So…that doesn’t leave a lot of choice in ways to occupy one’s retirement hours.

****

WOW, is it hot out there. The thermometer doesn’t seem to think so: it’s only registering 105 degrees. But man! Walk out that back door, and it feels like you’re walking into an oven!

Guess it must be a little humid. That’s what makes Arizona heat feel like actual heat. 

Anyway….that will moot tonight’s doggy-walk, for sure. And take care of any silly ideas I might have had about walking up to the grocery store. FORGET that!! 😀

and soooo….

Out the door at 7:00 a.m. tomorrow morning. That’s when the nearest grocers open. In an hour, I can collect enough loot to reload the pantry and get back here just in time to evade the first blast of heat.

 

Hotter Than the Hubs…Again…

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Or “still”…  Or something. 

Sunday…

The AC has been pounding away. Don’t even THINK of asking what the power bill is likely to be this month. Probably two or three hundred bucks. But…don’t think about it. No. No thinking!!

Today is Sunday. If I had any sense, I’d surface down at the church and rebuild old friendships. Because…well…I do need some human company. No question of it.

But…my son has kiped my car. 

I have no way to get down to the church except on a bus, a highly questionable ride.  Plus just now, as we scribble, the temp in the shade of the back porch is A HUNDRED AND FIVE DEGREES.

No way in Hell am I traipsing 16 blocks eastward to the bus stop and standing around in that heat until a south-bound ride comes along. If a ride comes along.

Now…yes, it IS true that if I would get what passes for my act together, I could lasso a fellow church-goer into picking me up and schlepping me down to All Saints. But…that would be…you know…work. 

It also would be a great deal nervier than I happen to feel just now.

Gasp! I keep thinking it’s hotter than the hubs in the house. But that really isn’t quite the case. What’s happening is…it’s just a little humid in here. And in Arizona, you don’t have to get very  humid to make the heat feel like a blast furnace. That would be because it IS a blast furnace….

Perusing real estate ads in Sun City. Y’know, the house that I’m in was built by the same developer who built out most of Sun City. And you can see the similarity!  My house looks surprisingly like a Sun City shack.

Mine is rather better built, though. The price range in North Central is far higher than westside locations will support, and so Del Webb — the Sun City guy — produced neighborhoods here that echo the look of Sun City, but…well… The houses here are sturdier, better insulated, more diversely designed. Even though the exteriors look surprisingly similar.

***

And now it’s Monday…

***

Started this a while ago. Lost track. Wandered off. Fell Asleep. Who knows what else…

Splendidly HORRIBLE morning out there. Hot (95 degrees in the shade of the back patio), high overcast, damp, and sticky.

Friend is slated to come over this noon, thereupon to go out to lunch. Hope she does indeed surface: Nothing like a convenable human to make life more or less livable!

Maybe I should offer to fix lunch here, so we don’t have to go out in that swamp. Don’t have much, though. And without a car, you can be sure I don’t feel like walking to a grocery store.

Hmmmm….

Not to say {chortle!}  Just stuck a wonderfully stupid sign on the front security door, telling the accursed door-to-door solicitors to take a flying F at the moon.

Well. Ahem.. Possibly not that explicitly. It asks that they not ring the doorbell, because someone inside is ill.

I’m ill, all right: SICK of nuisance phone and door-to-door solicitors pestering me several times a day.

LOL! My friend already knows I’m crazy. This visit will confirm her suspicions.

****

Grrrrrr!!! Speaking of nuisances, I’ve got a whole, large bag of beautiful frozen shrimp in the fridge…and can’t tell whether they’re the recalled, contaminated variety or not.

It doesn’t LOOK like they are, though. The brand name on the package doesn’t appear to be associated with the bad shrimp.

Hope not. Because I really, REALLY don’t want to go traipsing out in the heat to buy more dinner food. Nor do I want to throw out God only knows how many dollars worth of chow.

***

LOL!!!!!

Welp…there was a reason I didn’t want to traipse out in the heat to pick up chow for dinner.

It is too goddamn hot to make it all the way to the grocery store!!!

Or even halfway to the damn grocery store!

Wunderground claims it’s only 106 out there. And in fact, that’s exactly what the back-porch thermometer says, right now: 106 degrees.

I find that a little hard to believe: if asked, I’d have said it was 110 or a bit higher. But…heh! I are a English major: I are not a thermometer!

So. Half an hour ago, I set out for the supermarket on Gangbanger’s way, there to buy some light chow and a bottle of white wine. And as you can no doubt intuit: didn’t make it! 

Gave up before I got a block from the shack. Turned around. Came back.

Thank all the gods for iced water!

😀

Thinking of asking Wonder Cleaning-Lady to drive me up to the store. She’s here banging around the house just now. But…but…that seems like a little much to ask. As if she weren’t knocking herself out quite enough!

The local grocery stores open at 7:00 a.m. So..duhhhhh! The answer to this conundrum is to show up at the Sprouts or the Albertson’s door at 7:00 a.m.

How hard IS that?????

Some of these establishments are now delivering. If I really wanted to bestir myself, I could call one of them and get stuff sent over.

But that has a fundamental drawback: Americans.

Seriously! 😀  Americans by and large don’t cook with fresh food — they heat junk that comes in cans and boxes. S-O-O…they don’t know how to pick out fresh fruit and vegetables. Ask them to bring you a fresh head of romaine, and they  just grab whatever’s on top of the pile in the grocery-store bin. And that…well…tends not to be good.

******

Whooooaaaaa! Look up the local Albertson’s on Conduit of Blight, and you see they open at SIX a.m., not at seven!

Hot dayum!

(And we DO mean “hot”!)

This opens a whole new door. 

At 6:00 o’clock, it’s already hot here, but it’s not fukkin homicidal. If I show up with a list and my roller-cart, I should be able to get outta there by 6:30 — surely no later than 6:45 or 7:00 a.m. The walk home is only 20 or 30 minutes.

That means I can get back here before the heat turns truly homicidal! 

Think o’ that!!!

Not a very pleasant way to start the day. But it sure beats hiking through 100-degree heat! If I can get in the door by 6:15 a.m., I can get back to the Funny Farm by 7:00…maybe earlier than that.

At 7 o’clock, the heat will be in the 90s. But that sure ain’t 110.