Should I have those trees taken out?
The WonderAccountants — my neighbors straight across the street — removed the palm trees that were growing along the edges of their pool. And they surely seemed not to regret it…yea, verily, Mr. W.A. was very pleased.
Whose idea was it, in the first place, to plant PALM TREES next to a swimming pool??? They don’t throw enough shade to matter. But what a mess those damn things make!!!
Every year, I’ve got to get someone in here several times per season to shovel out the palm tree debris. And once a year, someone has to climb 50 or 100 feet up each one of the damn things and prune out the dead fronds and seed stuff.
What kind of moron plants a palm tree next to a swimming pool? To say nothing of FOUR goddamn palm trees, which is what we’ve got surrounding that pool in the backyard!
Next big project, I guess, will need to be to hire a lumberjack to come in here and cut those damn things down. My neighbors across the street — the beloved and brilliant WonderAccountants — did exactly that. And they’re pleased with the result.
Accenting today’s palm tree conundrum, we have today’s unholy weather. Incredibly hot. Incredibly humid: 9 percent humidity, saith Wunderground (that, I would say, is conservative).
Truth to tell, though: I dunno that I’ll be staying here long enough to make it worth the cost of hiring someone to come in and chop down those damn palm trees. My son would like to consign me to a cringe-making old-folkerie called the Beatitudes. It’s better, as far as I can tell, than other places like it in the Phoenix area. But…it still is basically a prison.
Still…I hafta admit: it’s hard to see how I could manage staying in my home, on my own, until I reach the Last Breath. The cost of hiring someone to babysit me through these final years would be just brain-banging. Plus…who is going to ride herd on this worthy person? My son, after all, has a job, of all the astonishing things.
So he can’t be here keeping an eye on any such character.
Hm.
Here’s a thought. Wanna see me scare the bejayzus out of a young man? 😀 Picture this:
We could hire a babysitter for me, right? Only instead of having her come here to ride herd on me, we have me and her go down to my son’s house (he works out of his home) and stay there during the week days.
Voilà! If I can be trained to stay out of his hair, he can do his work, and the sitter can fix lunch and dinner for us both and then drive me back to the Funny Farm.
Doesn’t THAT sound like fun?
😀
Mwa ha ha!