7:14 a.m., and it’s already ONE OF THOSE DAYS!
Out the door with the dog as dawn cracked. We try to get an early start by way of avoiding the Dog Parade: everybody and his little brother, sister, cousin, aunt, and uncle is out by dawn at this time of year. Especially on a day like this: it’s hot, humid, incredibly muggy.
Around the circuit we go, dodging dogs as we trot along. Hotter. Muggier. Ickier. After an hour of trudging, we round the corner up the street from our house, and….
DAMN!!!!!
There’s Gerardo and his guys up in the palm trees, hacking out dead fronds and dropping them into the pool.
The pool that was just cleaned the day before yesterday, to the tune of a bracing bill.
Heh! Today the tune is ROAR ROAR ROAR ROAR ROOOOOOOAAARRRR: blowers and gasoline-powered saws going full-tilt.
Now I’ll have to call Pool Dude and pay him AGAIN to clear that mess out of there. Gerardo’s guys will try to clean it out as best as they can, but they don’t have the equipment to really do the job.
Fine way to start the day, hm?
Already tired, hot, sweaty, frantic-made, and depressed.
Walked by my friend Marge’s house while we were out. Pretty clearly she’s no longer there: either she’s passed, or they’ve dragged her off to the dreaded old-folkerie.
It’s kind of a cute house, in a bourgeois way: classic Southern California tract house. The neighborhood is nice, occupying what once were horse pastures and cotton fields. This area was all rural when I used to drive through it on the way from my parents’ house in Sun City to my job in downtown Phoenix. Now: all Mittel-America.
Marge had paid off the house, figuring to leave it to her son when she died. But he pre-deceased her. So presumably it will go on the market in the near future.
It’s a ways from the Bosnian Empire. But…frankly, I wouldn’t want to live there, even though the street itself is extremely pleasant.
* It’s just a block from Main Drag North, once a country lane…now more like eight lanes. It’s a major commuter thoroughfare in from the west side now, just PACKED with traffic during the rush hours, and pretty frantic any other time of day. Too much noise, to much carbon monoxide, too many fruitcakes.
* The houses are pretty old, and so require constant maintenance and repairs. My house is expensive enough in that department…and in comparison to Marge’s place, it’s a mere youth.
* Speaking of expense, all those houses up there are on irrigated lots. While this keeps the water bill down — flood irrigation doesn’t use city tap water — it means you have to maintain a third of an acre (or more) of grass. You don’t even want to know what Gerardo is gonna charge for working on those damn palm and citrus trees this morning. And I have gravel landscaping…so he and his guys don’t have to mow every week or two.
With increasing frequency, I contemplate where I would like to move, if I could get away from here.
SDXB and NG are in Sun City — last I heard from him, he appeared to be about on his last paws. He’s not answering the phone and not returning calls…so I figure if he’s still living, he’s probably in a hospital or old-folkerie.
Personally, I’ve lived in Sun City, and I ain’t a-doin’ that again.
Truth to tell, there really isn’t anywhere I’d rather be than here. And…for what it costs to get yourself into one of those warehouses for old folks, I could hire someone to come in and take care of me.
With the Baby Boom Generation entering senilitude, there are more and more businesses and organizations that will come to you and keep you going until you’re on your last paws. Recently learned about an outfit that will come to your house and bring food to you. Plus we have an army of freelance cab drivers out there in the form of Lyft and Dial-a-Ride — on top of the traditional taxi services. Frankly, I think if you know what you’re doing, you probably can arrange to get all the services that you’d need delivered in your home.
Now, I expect, is the time to find out about those businesses and create a list of them, with contact info.