Coffee heat rising

Angst

Time to Move to the Old Folks’ Home?

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Stay? or flee?

Do Ruby and I want to sell up, pack up, and move? Shift our base of operations to an institution for the elderly, where staff babysit you 24/7? Or…well…stay here, keep dodging the burglars and the sh!t-heads, keep managing crews of yard guys, housecleaners, pool dudes, repairmen…on and on and endlessly on?

One advantage of living in an old-folkerie: someone else rides herd on the hired help.

Here, I do have a cleaning lady who does an excellent job. Most of them don’t: they appear not to know how to clean house, at least not to middle-class American standards. So the presence of Wonder Cleaning-Lady is a huge privilege…and very possibly a rarity.

You shouldn’t have to ride herd on a worker doing a job that your mommy taught you to do when you were nine years old. In Wonder Cleaning-Lady’s case, I don’t have to…but too dam many of them don’t even seem to know how to use a dustrag.

Move into one of those old folks’ warehouses, and (in theory, anyway) you have an employee riding the herd.

Whaddaya bet, though, that you still end up with imperfect cleaning, dust still sitting on the bookcase shelves, dust still hiding behind the sofa, grease still sitting on the stove burners…on and on and on…  Y’know…if I have to deal with that, I’d rather deal with it in my own home,  not in some unholy institution.

But…Jeez!!

This morning Ruby and I repaired to the neighborhood park for our morning perambulation. And there was some guy out there, yelling suggestive obscenities at us. Yeah: at an 80-year-old bat!!! 

You can’t get away from the bastards!

Wait…isn’t that what the cop said after the Great Home Invasion Adventure?  😀

Seriously: you CAN’T get away from them.

If I’m going to stay here and if I imagine Ruby and I are going to continue our walking routine, maybe I ought to get us a pistol. One that’s small enough to fit inside a pocket.

On the other hand, I don’t want to shoot some jerk just because he asks me if I wanna f*ck. That wouldn’t be nice, would it?

😉

Never a Dull Moment

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Every time you turn around, here’s some new shenanigan or headache to contend with. It’s getting old…very old…

This morning, in comes an email from a co-religionist down at the church. She and I used to work the front desk in the office, among other things. Soo…I go to answer this message and find it’s FAKE. It’s a spamming, scamming message sent under her name and email address.

Jeez. Don’t you know the mere act of opening that message has now invited that scammer to exploit and hassle me.

Goodie! I can hardly wait.

Just one more thing to pile atop the Handcart to Hell. 

  • My son is ill and pretty much on the outs.
  • I ain’t what you’d call “well,” either.
  • The pool appears to need some (expensive!) work
  • The park is infested with coyotes, so I can’t take Ruby the Corgi over there safely. That park is her favorite doggy-walk venue.
  • The peripheral neuropathy I’ve been enjoying, as it develops, can be a sign of a very serious ailment.
  • And on…and on…and on…

Part of the trouble here is that I’m now sick enough myself that I can’t handle all the stupid little ditz of daily life. And as you my recognize, most of this stuff is the ditz of daily life. One fukkin’ thing after another!

Garbage of that ilk, of course, flows in a steady stream. There’s never any end to it.

But gosh! I’m tired of it!!

Check Your Homewner’s Coverage!

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Hey! Take a look at your homowner’s insurance  policy and be sure it covers ALL the contingencies. You could be surprised…and that’s a surprise you won’t enjoy if suddenly you need coverage that ain’t there.

Just a few weeks ago, one of the desert’s occasional spectacularly violent windstorms blasted through Sun City, a seemingly endless suburb on the west side of Phoenix. The storm blew off roofs to the left of us and roofs to the right of us…and caused a fair amount of flooding. This happens every now and again out there — maybe once every three or four years, big-time.

SDXB, who lives out in Sun City nowadays, reports that a bunch of his neighbors discovered their trashed roofs were NOT covered by their homeowner’s.

Wow!  You don’t even wanna know what it costs to reroof a two- or three-bedroom house. So…

As annoying as it is, and as much as it does feel like you’re paying for air…DON’T neglect paying for your homeowner’s insurance…and making sure it actually does cover everything that could happen. Including a flying roof…

Dim Light on the Horizon?

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Okay, this afternoon the weirdly spavined back has decided to act a little better.

Why, I do not know. Time and the river flowing, I imagine.

This is the first time in three weeks or so that the pain has slacked off a bit. At any rate, it does offer SOME hope that this little frolick will settle down and go away.

My gawd: it has hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt, and HURT some more, day in and day out over the past several weeks. Can’t even imagine what I did to myself: must have slept cattywampus one night and wrenched something back there.

Anyway: patientia! 

If it actually is healing on its own, it’s doing so very, very slowly. So if I’m to gut this out, just let it get done and go away, it probably will take another two to four weeks to reach a fully, magnificently pain-free state. Hmmm…matter of fact, these folks say it can take up to six weeks for a back sprain to heal.

Uh huh…that sounds like it’s about par for my course.

So…figure we’ll give it another three weeks or so before having (yet again!!!) recourse to the Mayo Clinic, with its hour-long drive (each way) and its arrogant doctors who treat you like you have an IQ in the negative numbers..

{sigh}  I just hate going to doctors. And especially am repelled by the Mayo.

Yeah: they ARE among the best…indeed, they may be THE best. But gawdlmighty, the custom of peering down their noses at you is about as annoying as it gets. Drive half your life…to see a doctor who behaves as if she thinks you’re a step removed from a moron.

Well, if the thing continues to improve, maybe we can avoid another encounter with God’s Greatest Gift to Half-witted Patients. We shall see…

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Here we are in Coyote Hell again. 

Actually…I get a kick out of the coyotes and do not consider their presence to be Hell-making. But ooooh my, how they terrorize the local gringos. Get on the neighborhood Facebook Page and it’s oooohhhh eeeeeek aaaaawkkkk eeeeek ohhhhhh!!@!!! Squalls of terror from all directions.

Humans sure are stupid, aren’t they? Especially the ones that live in cities…  😀 Nary a one of our FB correspondents seems to register that a coyote is more scared of you than you are of it.

Just now — the loveliest cool of the day, when Mr. Coyote is likely to be out taking the morning air, I would not leave Ruby to roam the backyard alone. She is, after all, a tempting little morsel.

But let the heat come up, and Mr. Coyote will repair to the shade of the shrubbery and the trees. And he will not bestir himself to chase after a ludicrous thing like a corgi.

Wonder-Cleaning Lady is here. She likes to have the back door open while she’s working. So Ruby is out on the patio, loafing in the shade. For the nonce, none of her wild cousins are visiting, and so I reckon she’s safe enough. Hope so, because just now I’m altogether too lazy to get up and establish myself out there.

Mmmmm…. I figure the best thing about pain is that it reminds you that you’re alive. And just now, by damn, I am SOOOO ALIVE! 

The spavined right hip joint is particularly lively… HOleee shit, does that hurt!

***

Just now, if I were a responsible human bean, I’d get off my duff and stroll over to one of the three(!!!) grocery stores within reasonable walking distance. But really, I do suspect that I’d find myself crippled by the time I got halfway to the nearest one.

{heh} Good excuse, ain’t it? 😀

I may ask WC-L to drive me over to the Sprouts or the Albertson’s.

Or maybe not.

***

What a weird thing it is, to realize that now — today, here in Two Thousand and Aught-Twenty-Six — I cannot remember off-hand what I wanted to buy at the grocer’s. Am I that superannuated, that worn-out that I can’t remember a grocery list of two or three items????  AUGH!

😀

When I first moved into the “Hood,” lo! these decades ago, I was a young pup surrounded by aging, long-time North Central Avenue residents. Now I’m the Old Bat — the historical relic — and all the neighbors look like they were born about ten days ago.

And oh! How can you not love them! Our beautiful young people: the handsome young marrieds, their adorable children…gosh, what a joy!

I wonder if the old ladies who lived here when I moved in — the dignified and historically experienced Mrs. Wilson, the lively and eccentric Fran, the great old gals on the street behind us — enjoyed us as much, when we moved in here as a wave of Yuppies.

Oh, well. I’m old now. Tomorrow they will be. So it goes.

The House on the Park

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Every time Ruby and I head out into the’ Hood and circumnavigate the park, we pass a house that makes me think We need to move out of this place! 

It’s a beautiful house: two stories, facing right on the park. About as upscale as you can get.

But…

A friend of mine was living there with her husband. They were high-school teachers: quiet, conservative types. One day they answered the door when somebody jangled the doorbell.

Two guys were out on the front stoop. They shoved their way into the house, grabbed my friends, tied them up, dragged them upstairs, and threw them into a bathtub. There the two resided, in terror, while the home invaders ransacked their house.

Eventually the thugs exited and my friends managed to work themselves free of their bonds.

Not surprisingly, said friends promptly sold that house and moved as far away as they could get while still remaining in the Valley.

And THAT is why I think I should follow them out of these parts.

Yeah. I mentioned that thought to a cop who was working the crime scene that day. And he said, “Don’t do that! We come to these things all the time: almost every day, all over the Valley. You can’t move away from it.”

Jayzuz!

Well, I figure he should know what he’s talking about, and so I did follow his advice and stayed put.

Still: it gives me the willies.

What a critter the human is! What a society we live in!

Speaking of the which: here we have R-O-O-O-O-A-R! ROAR! ROAR! ROAR!! 

Cop helicopter blasts in. Takes up his position over the neighborhood just to the north of us. And charges back and forth, forth and back, back and forth…roar roar roar! 

Get up. Close and double-lock all the doors.

keeerap! Am I tired of this!!!!! 

Trouble is…like the cop said: You can’t get away from it.