Thursday afternoon, late in March. This ain’t no spring day: as we scribble, Wundground says it’s100 degrees in the backyard. Hotter than the Hubs of Hades, and then some!
Being stuck carless in Gaza makes a 100-degree day a bit of a problem. Though in theory I could walk to the nearby stores, doing so in the blasting sun through ambient 100-degree temps is…well…pretty much out of the question.
Gotta ask you: can you believe that? ONE HUNDRED DEGREES in freakin’ MARCH!!?!
Hauled the last hummingbird feeder around to the side yard — the only one our clandestine visitor hasn’t yet stolen or busted up. Since I can lock the side gate, we at least have a shot at keeping our hands on that one.
It really is so maddening that it makes me think seriously about selling up and moving someplace else.
Problem is, “someplace else” is gonna be some dreary old-folkerie. And y’know, THAT will be the end of me. I can’t live like that, and I won’t. Stick me in one of those places, and before long I’ll select the Final Exit.
So…what to do, what to do? Hmmmm…
One thought is to install some hidden cameras in the front and side yards. Hide them well enough, and sooner or later they should provide a clue to who or what is raiding my home. But…then what?
Speaking of old-folkeries, I learned that the venerable Beatitudes old-folks home will send people to your house to take care of you! Called this afternoon to have someone come over and tell me about it.
Now, THAT would solve a big problem.
Truly, I hate loathe and despise institutional living. That’s why I just DON’T want to move into one of those places. But…if they’d send someone to you….well…now we’d have a whole ‘nother story.
Wonder-Cleaning Lady does a great job of keeping the shack clean, but she’s only here once every two weeks. Another worker would put someone in the house once a week, which, as I trudge further into decrepitude, would be HUGE.
Also, if I could get someone here once a week, they might be persuaded to schlep me to the grocery store. And THAT would truly be huge. Especially in 100-degree heat like we’re having now. It would relieve M’hijito of at least some concern, too: between Wonder-Cleaning Lady and a weekly visit from the old-folkery, two days a week would be covered by someone physically coming here to check on me.
Might be able to hire some other babysitter, too. Or at least arrange that I call M’hijito at a certain time each day, so he’ll know I’m more or less in one piece.
***
Meanwhile, the spavined hip seems to be s-l-o-o-w-l-y healing, a micrometer at a time. Today I can walk up the hallway without having to hold onto the walls — haven’t done that in a couple of weeks. Still hurts, but nothing like it did at the outset.
What on earth I did to hurt myself like this utterly escapes me. I haven’t fallen. Haven’t injured my leg (that I know of). Haven’t done anything to myself.
Only thing I can figure is I must have twisted that joint in my sleep…and done so hard enough or long enough to inflict some lasting damage.
Wouldn’t you think that would have hurt enough that I would have noticed it? Even if I was sleeping, you’d think it would have waked me up. But if anything like that happened, I sure don’t recall it.
Ohhh well.
Helicopter is circling…and circling…and circling to the south of us. Can’t tell if it’s a cop copter, or just a traffic copter. The latter, I think: no other action is evident just now. It’s almost 5:00 pm., so the thing is almost certainly watching traffic. So that’s good: we can do without yet another cops-&-robbers drama.