Saturday noon…and now I’ve got the plumber on his way over here.

The toilet in the master bathroom is totally clogged. The one in the center bathroom, which drains through the same system, is barely working.

Jayzuz! Another pile of obscene bills, galloping down the pike!!!

Just talked to their dispatcher: she says they’re on the way.

Goodie. I had nothin’ else today than fart with that. As it were….

My son is gonna yell at me, as he always does every time I call workmen. That will add a little more fun to the day.

Ahhhhh homeownership!

Y’know…I had the strangest nightmare last night. 

It concerned my long-gone relatives in Berkeley, California. They had a pretty little bungalow in the foothills, just the sweetest house you ever saw.

When my great grand-mother passed away, her daughter (who lived in that bungalow with her and had a high-test job with Crocker-Anglo National Bank) sold the house and moved to a nice apartment downtown. The Realtor who put the house on the market explored around and discovered that its basement was full of termites!

Apparently it had been, for some time

So after they killed off the livestock, they had to get carpenters in there to rebuild the beams and stuff in the basement and attic. WHAT a mess!!!!

So…last night’s motion-picture show brought that misadventure to Arizona. Lo! in that dream a workman climbed into the attic and found it swarming with termites.

This, you understand, is not an unlikely scenario here in Lovely Uptown Phoenix. We do have termites, too, and they have been known to excavate people’s houses. And in fact, this house has had its own visitations.

The place has been sprayed several times, attic included. Far as I can tell, termite spray doesn’t last long. Apparently you have to spray a couple times a year. And since I’m royally allergic to that stuff, I tend…well, NOT to do that.

So…boyoboy! Here we go again!

Bug guy will have to spend half the day or more climbing around spraying the attic, the roof, and everyplace else he can reach…thereby rendering the yard toxic for the dog.

And toxic for me: I’ll be sick for three or four days.

Once again I’ll have to sign on for regular bug spray, so the dog and I can get sick for several days every six months. Wheeee!

It’s the “sick” part that causes me to “forget” to call our guy or to sign onto a regular contract. I don’t happen to like to get sick from breathing the fukkin’ air. Nor am I fond of cleaning up the dog barf that happens when Ruby is exposed to the stuff. Or having to take her out for doggy-walks several times a day for a week or two, until the poisoned air clears out enough that she can navigate the yard safely.

Anyway: the crisis of the moment concerns running water, not poisoned air. We shall see what happens next….

I want my mother back.

She was murdered by the tobacco merchants of death. It was an effective way to kill her: get her hooked on an addictive, toxic weed and let her puff herself to death.

She never saw her grandson. But oh, my! How she would have loved him. How she would thought he was cool! Because he is cool.

They killed her before he could be born. She knew I was pregnant with him. But by then she was so sick from the murderous tobacco products she so loved that she simply did not care that she was about to have a grandson. And she was right: she didn’t live to enjoy him.

What the hell is wrong with our society that we allow murderous products to be manufactured and sold on the open market?

Money:

More important than life.
More important than health.
More important than our children.
More important than our families.
More important than common decency.
More important than anything, eh?

WHAT a gorgeous afternoon! Cool but not too cool, warm but not too warm. Cute little kids behind us playing in their yard. Birds gliding around…DANG! But this part of the neighborhood is THE business.

Days have gone by without a car, and y’know what has happened?

That’s right:

nothing

Not one single catastrophe has occurred in the absence of the Dog Chariot.

It appears that my son is right: I really don’t NEED a car. 

Over the past week, I’ve had no problem getting to the various places I need to go, either on foot or by Uber cab. Mostly on foot: a good 90% of the places I go and things I need are within easy walking distance.

A-N-N-N-D…. A guy who drives an Uber cab lives right across the street! About 90% of the time he’s just sitting there…so if I do need a serious ride, all I have to do is walk across the street and lean on his doorbell.

😀

Seriously: I would never have thought it was so easy to get around this part of town without a vehicle.

Knowing it sooner than this could’ve saved me a lot of money, eh?

So…now I suppose we need to decide what we should do with the car, which presently resides at my son’s place. Hmmmm. What are the options, anyway?

* Give the damn thing, lock stock and over-priced barrel, to my son. Lucky him, eh?

He, of course, has his own hole in the ground into which to pour money, so the truth is, he has no need for another one.

* Sell it and run off with a wad of money.

Hmmm…and what IS the tax implication of that maneuver? Have to check into that.

* Speaking of tax implications, donate it to a worthy cause.

Would that not convert it from a tax liability into a tax deduction? Hmmm, again: let us check with our beloved Tax Lady to find out what that really means.

Well. My own thought, to the extent that I still think these days, is to give it to the Kid and let him decide what he wants to do with it. On the other hand: that seems a little self-defeating, if I could take a several-thousand-dollar tax deduction by donating it. On the other other hand, WGAS? if the car is something he needs and can really use, what do I care whether I can extract a deduction from it?

Well. I guess we’d better confer with our tax accountant before making a decision. But…hmmmm….I’d just as soon fork it over to my son as to a charity or to the government. But…let us see what we shall see.