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Amusing traits and tricks of dotage…

* You put things “away”…and  before you know it, you can’t remember where “away” is.

* You make a marvelous pot of coffee…and then forget you have a coffeepot sitting on the counter.

* You don’t know what time it is…partly because you no longer reckon the time of day by the sun’s position, and partly because you don’t care.

* You forget you told a friend you’d meet them…uhmmm…uhhh…wherEVER…

* You can’t find your purse…and you NEED something it contains.

* You bang and crash around, searching room after room and space after space.

* After you give up, you come across the purse…but it doesn’t contain what you needed to find it for.

* You do find your driver’s license, whose loss you’ve silently concealed because you’ve been afraid to ‘fess up that you lost it.

* You find the four (4!!!!) purses that lately have disappeared from the scene. OH JOY!!!!

* But…uhmmm…. Where is the stuff that’s supposed to be in those purses?

* None of the purses are flopped on the car’s seats. But…but…why are FOUR yellow pads and THREE pens sitting there?

* Searching for the missing purses, you find a metal credit-card case that you had not yet realized was lost. Well…joy! One less scare to clutter your afternoon.

* You hear water humming away outside. NOW what? Get up to explore and discover the water hose you left running to top off the swimming pool FAILED TO SWITCH OFF.

* As you RUN outside to turn off the spigot, you realize the water level is about two inches below the surface of the deck. Ohhhhhh well…at least it’ll be awhile before you have to refill the pool again.  /eyeroll/

*At this point it occurs to you that you want, more than anything, a bourbon & water.

* And at the next point, you realize your worried son has (sanctimoniously!!!!) snabbed all the whiskey and all the wine. Nary a drop in the house to defrazzle your nerves.

* One thing you DO need in your dotage is defrazzling! Regular defrazzling…

* Cop helicopter flying low over your yard does exactly nothing to defrazzle.

* You trot inside and lock the doors.

* The water bill and the Cox bill arrive in the mail. Most of your regular bills are autopaid…but some are not. Trouble is, you no longer can recall which is which. Now you’ll have to drag out file folders or traipse to the credit union to figure out if either of these must be manually paid.

* Next question: Where can you hide the bourbon where the kid won’t find it?

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!

And that, my friends, is why old age is not for the young or the faint of heart……

Ah, a lovely spring day in Central Arizona. The rain — a light rain but a soggy one — is letting up , distant thunder rolling down into the Valley from the northerly hills. Gray, hot, and sticky.

Just darted back in the house, after aborting a vaguely planned grocery-store junket. At four in the afternoon, the city streets are less than pure fun on any day. On a gloomy and wet day, you can  be sure they’re a menace to all things living.

Today’s plan was also to drop by the car body shop to the west of the ‘Hood and see if they could touch up a li’l scratched paint on the Dog Chariot. That was a FAIL!, though, thanks to ihe incoming shamal. Driving around in the rain with my fellow Arizona lunatics is not a good way to spend an afternoon. 😀

M’hijito: busy riding herd on his mother. He’s highly annoyed because I diddled away a couple hundred bucks on replacing most of the double-cylinder deadbolts in the house. Feels I was mightily ripped off.

Hm. Could be….that’s for sure!

None of the things was utterly worn out, after all.

Still…it’s habitual with me. Typically when I live in a house upwards of seven years or so, I’ll replace the doorknobs and locks. And we got seven new door accouterments, which presumably will last another seven or more years.

In this part of town, you do want doorknobs and locks that will stand up to some pressure…

By golly, I thought I was gonna knock off…and spend the rest of the afternoon loafing with my feet up on a hassock.

No.

Of course not.

No. Not. A. Chance.

Now I’ve got door handles and door locks busted every which way from Sunday!

No kidding… Have you noticed that? How everything craps out at once, in multiples.

This house has deadbolts on every exterior door (each exterior door = 2 doors, because they all have burglar screens, mounted over the regular doors. That’s because you’d be CRAZY to live in or anywhere near lovely Sunnyslope without break-in resistant screens and heavy-duty deadbolts.

So, long as I have to pay the locksmith to come over and do battle with the hardware, I count up the number of locks that need repair. Seven.

Yep. That’s right. Seven worn-out deadbolts.

Helle’s Belles! I’ll be paying this bill for the rest of my life.

Call up my regular locksmith. And speaking of Helle’s Belles, that business seems to have changed hands! The guy who answers the phone has a HEAVY Indian or Pakistani accent.

So after some dorking around, we manage to make each other understood…I hope.

Let’s also hope he doesn’t figure he can rip off the Little Woman with some exorbitant overcharge.

The problem with getting repair dudes over here is that our genius City Fathers, lo! these many years ago, gave two parallel streets in the ‘Hood almost identical names.

Yes.

I live on Erewhon STREET. The next street north of me is Erewhon ROAD.

Result? Everybody who comes here for the first time gets confused and lost. They all go up Erowhon Road if they’re looking for Street, or up Erewhon Street if they’re looking for Road.

No sign of the locksmith our hero said would be right along. Presumably he’s charged off down the wrong road.

So…tomorrow I get to search for a new locksmith. Won’t that be fun?

******

NOPE!

Make that today I get to pay a new locksmith.

Our hero, who bears the name Mohammed, showed up pretty promptly. English ain’t his strong point, so I’m kinda scared I may not have explained the issue(s) to him clearly enough. Basically what’s happening is that these deadbolts do tend to crap out after several years of daily use. Some doors get a WHOLE lot more “daily use” than others…specifically the front door and front security screen; the office door with its solid-core door and heavy-duty deadbolt; the back door and security screen; to which one can add constant in-and-out traffic by a small and bossy dog.

It’s late in the afternoon and the human is massively not in the mood to listen to serenades from electric tools and from an agitated little (ARF ARF ARF ARF!!!) dawg.

***

hmmmm…. Speaking of dawgs…boyoyboy does that little pooch need a bath!

It wasn’t what he did. It was what his buddy did.

And that he approved of what his buddy did.

Paul was the first Great Love of My Life. Handsome, smart, affable, sexy, upward-bound. Who could ask for anything more, eh?

Well…as extreme as it seems, you could ask for a little common decency…

***

Paul was madly in love with me, there in Tucson in our last years of undergraduate school. And I was madly in love with him.

My parents loathed him.

But it was our lives and our love affair, so I pretty much disregarded whatever they thought or said about him. He was upwardly bound, finishing an undergraduate degree, headed toward an MBA, figured to have a career as a business executive or a government functionary.

My mother urged me to let him go. I ignored her: my feelings for Paul were my business and none of hers.

So I thought.

Paul’s best friend was a married man whose wife was advanced in pregnancy. Very advanced: about eight months along. One night this guy was out on the town with his pals…when he picked up a chippy at a bar. Took her to a motel room and had sex with her.

Incredibly (to my way of thinking…), Paul thought that was just dandy.

No kidding. He felt the guy was fully justified in jumping into bed with this whore, because, said Paul, “his wife isn’t giving him any.”

Got it? She’s on the verge of giving birth, bloated up like a watermelon, sick most of the time…but it’s her bounden duty to put out for her horny husband.

I thought, Y’know…dude, if you think it’s OK for him to do that to his wife, someday you’re likely to do the same to me.

And the next thought was Bye!

Want to end a love affair? Show your partner exactly what you’re capable of doing…

***

So my mother got her fondest wish: I flang him out.

Was that a good thing?

Probably. The man I did marry was a far, far better human being. The marriage lasted about 20 years. No doubt it would still be going if I’d been in love with him. Unfortunately, I never got over being in love with Paul, and so after all those years I wandered off on my own.

 

A bit past 7 in the morning. The phone has already jangled: nuisance telephone solicitor.

Can you imagine? The bastards call you BEFORE EFFING 7 A.M.!!!

Put a generous spin on it: the guy is probably calling from a prison in some other time zone. (Phone soliciting is a prison industry, interestingly enough.) We don’t have Daylight Savings. so if that nuisance has kicked in where he lives, he thinks it’s 8 o’clock.

YE GODS. though, am I sick of goddamn phone solicitors. And I really, seriously HATE them when they ring up the phone at this hour.

Today M’hijito and I have to drive a-l-l-l the way across the Valley to the Mayo Clinic, where I have a nuisance appointment with a doctor. Or more likely with a nurse practitioner.

Dammit!

It’s an utter waste of time, a good  hour’s drive each way through cut-throat traffic. I just HATE driving out there. Particularly since they do have a clinic here in town. That one is no fun to reach on the effing freeway — especially during the rush hour, which seems to be the Clinic’s favorite time to schedule appointments…but at least it’s only about 20 or 30 minutes away.

I am fricking STARVED, and not allowed to eat until my blood is drawn. What a goddam nuisance!

Totally gorgeous morning! I’d like to take Ruby for a walk. But if M’jito shows up and finds me gone — he’s bound & determined to schlep me acrosss the city to the Mayo — he’ll get all worried.

<!!!RINGY DINGY DINGY!!!>>
{arghhh! NOW what???}

M’hijito on the phone. I’d asked him to call to remind me of this morning’s torture appointment.

<<chortle!>

Think o’ that… It isn’t even 7:30 in the morning, and the goddam phone has already jangled twice.

The telephone, IMHO, is not one of Humankind’s better inventions!

For reasons unknown, I do get many fewer phone solicitations that I used to. So that’s a mercy. Back in the Day — when I was pregnant and wanting desperately to sleep in the afternoon — we would get four to six nuisance calls a day. I got to the point where I would just unplug the phones for several hours a day.

This was shortly after plug-in phones became commonplace. Before that, your phone was hard-wired to the wall. So, you couldn’t unplug it. And then, as now, the phone soliciting bastards would jangle you up several times a day. That problem, I addressed by storing the damn phone inside the freezer.

{sigh}

Ruby, patrolling the front patio, flies into a soaring RAGE.

NOW what???

Some woman walking by on the other side of the street, in tow behind a huge and magnificent husky. GORGEOUS dog! And totally unfazed by Ruby’s barking frenzy.

😀

Holeee maquerel! Lookit this fiasco!

That’s the road we would normally take to the ranch. Sure am glad I’m not driving up there today!

😮

{sigh} It was a pretty drive, up a steep hill to reach the plateau above the Valley. Our acreage stretched to the rim of that plateau. So if one had nothin’ else to do but ride a horse half the day, we could amble over there and gaze down off the Rim.

So beautiful! I sure do miss that ranch.

 

 

6:50 a.m.

Weirdness of the day: The buzzy peripheral neuropathy has, for unknown reasons, receded by about 90%. Why? I cannot imagine. I’m not doing anything different. Not eating anything different. Not teetotaling. Not exercising more. Not exercising less. Not taking meds, other than an occasional ibuprofen and a daily hit of B12.

Headed out with the dog by way getting the daily stroll out of the way before the day warms up. Let us see what result that brings…

****

8:15 a.m.

Back in the house. GORGEOUS morning! Cool but not cold. High fluffy clouds lurking overhead. Neighbors and their doggies skipping around the park. You couldn’t ask for anything better!

PN continues about the same: significantly reduced over the past few days’ misdventure. Still, no clue why.

But…if it backs off by a proportionate degree over the next couple of days, the pain and buzzing will essentially be gone. Maybe there’s at least some hope that it’ll go away.

Meanwhile, the park is full of our lovely neighbors, most of them out for their daily health-walk. Jet planes flying out of the West Valley’s Luke Air Force Base take off, roar around, head back to the base, land. Great fun to watch those things charging around!

Luke is just west and south of Sun City, a ghetto for the agèd on the road to California.

SC: my mother loved it. My father disliked children, and so SC looked like some kind of nirvana to him. Neither of my paents was fond of kids — not by any means — and so when they learned of Sun City about the time my father was ready to retire, they thought they’d found heaven. They got me in to the University of Arizona (150 miles to the south) at the end of my junior year in high school, and as soon as I was out of their graying hair, my father quit his job and they moved to Old Folks Central.

Yes. So delighted was my mother with this advance move to Retirement that she convinced herself that she LOVED the racket of fighter jets shooting in and out of Luke. She would sit on their screened back porch and sip coffee for two hours while those planes went ROAR…ROAR…ROAR…over the house and the backyard.

😀

Well…whatever makes ya happy, eh?

What makes Ruby the Corgi happy is…POOL DUDE!

BELOVED Pool Dude.

That little dog just dotes on the man. Weirdly. she seems to know when it’s Tuesday, his regular service day. And by golly, she parks herself by the back screen doors and gazes into the backyard, awaiting his Glory’s arrival.

Why she loves the guy so much escapes me. Is there some sort of dog-entrancing cologne??? No idea. He seems like a normal, ordinary sorta fella: polite, down-to-earth, focused on his job. But something about him enchants that dog.