Coffee heat rising

Snoop Snoop Human

Here we are on Truthfinder, searching out dirt on an old neighbor and sorta-friend of mine. Their “search” is in-freaking-terminable! On and on and on and on….  And, as we all suspect, very probably a waste of time.

This lady was married to a prominent lawyer here in town, at the same time my own husband was a prominent lawyer. Had a bodacious daughter who was given to using weed and generally getting into mischief. And a cute young son who wasn’t yet old enough to create much trouble.

Ohhhhh lookee here! They make you sit through INTERMINABLE computer clicketymumbledypeggedy and then, after 15 or 20 minutes of this, they tell you they have all sorts of miraculously scandalous information about your victim…uh…subject…and want you to pony up cash to see it!!!!

Eff that, dear Truthfinder. You might consider presenting the “truth” of your business model up front, before your victims spend half the morning waiting for you to gag up data.

Hmmm…. Looks like my old pal moved to Tempe.

SPECIAL OFFER!!!!
DOLLAR TRIAL!!!!!!
PONY UP JUST A DOLLAR TO GET STARTED!

Bye, Truthfinder.

God, I get tired of Internet rips. “Information is supposed to be free!” Remember that?

And I for one do NOT pay for DIY data searches.

A-n-n-d…by now wouldn’t you think I’d be smart enough to recognize an Internet rip when I first lay eyes on it?

😀

Ripped!

…and ripped off?  

Criminey! Just had to order a new set of queen-sized sheets. The pair I’ve been using ripped up the middle (that’s a new one on me!!). Forhevvinsake: FIFTY-FIVE BUCKS for one set of cotton sheets!

This, because the G.D. Mayo Clinic took away my driver’s license, so I can’t in any sane way get to a department store to buy the damn things.

Is this weird (not to say infuriating)? I have never had a sheet RIP right out from under me. It looks like probably a toenail somehow got caught on it, so that in moving around in my sleep I pulled the fabric apart.

Grrrrrrr!!!!!!!!!  

Yes, I do have another set of sheets. But only ONE such set. Those quacks at the Mayo have invalidated my driver’s license(!!!), so I can’t even drive to a store to select a new set.

One needs two sets, so that one set can go in the wash while the Cleaning Lady from Heaven is making the bed with the already clean set.

And yes, I surely should feel grateful that Amazon exists. Ordering the things online is less than perfectly desirable (one would like to see and examine a purchase before dropping $55(!!!!!!!) on it. But it appears that I don’t have much choice.

There is a store within walking distance where you can buy linens. But it ain’t the kind of place where I’m used to buying that kind of stuff, and frankly it gives me pause. So does Amazon, of course: either way, you can’t be sure of the quality you’re getting.

Well…I hope this doesn’t turn into the disaster that I’m expecting. Rather little hope, I must say: when you have to buy something sight unseen, you pretty well guarantee a nice little fiasco for yourself.

A nice expensive fiasco!

A Revelation in Transit

Y’know… Over the past few days — “weeks,” really, is more like it — a kinda startling revelation has occurred to me. Hang onto your hat, now: What with the proximity of key retail stores, the new lightrail running up and down Conduit of Blight Blvd., and a fleet of shiny new busses, I don’t really need to own a car. 

Oops: should’ve warned you to sit down before reading that…  😀

But seriously…  Without the little catastrophes of the past two or three weeks, this idea would never have entered my fuzzy little mind. BUT…oh, yes, but: the fact is, between the lightrail, the shiny new busses, and the Uber cars swarming all over the neighborhood, I actually may not need to have an expensive pile of metal and glass sitting out in the garage.

Yeah. Seriously!

I can get from Point A to Point B with very little more trouble than it takes to climb in my car and drive between those points.

We have several Uber drivers living here in the’ Hood. They’re delighted to take you wherever you imagine you want to go. And if they’re not available, Phoenix still hosts a fine fleet of standard taxicabs. Call a Yellow Cab and it’ll be at your door in minutes. An Uber driver lives right across the street from me! He can be here in seconds, not minutes.

But…but…what does it take to walk from here to most of the fine emporia where I shop and loaf?

A lightrail line runs across Main Drag North, turns south on Main Drag West, swerves southerly toward Central, goes right past my son’s street, and proceeds to a stop in front of the Beloved AJ’s Grocery Palace.

So…uhm….. {ahem!}

Why on earth would I imagine that I want a car, here in the ‘Hood??

Consider: AJ’s is indeed a drive away. BUT…within a ten-minute walk, we have these fine emporia:

  • Albertson’s: a huge supermarket
  • Sprouts: the beloved hippy-dippy peddler of nominally organic chow
  • Walgreen’s: huge drugstore
  • Bookman’s: bookstore, music, whatnot
  • El Rancho: supermarket
  • Fireworks store (!)
  • Post office
  • Doctor’s office
  • Beauty salon
  • Independent pharmacist
  • Veterinarian
  • Coinstar

And on and on and on… there really is little need to drive anywhere. Certainly not on a regular, day-to-day basis.

Do I need a car to get to the Mayo? Yeah: I wouldn’t want to hire a cab or Uber to schlep halfway to Payson. But I sure don’t go out there often. And for that matter, we’re within walking distance of a major regional hospital…I could extend my little self so radically as to take up with a doctor who practices there. (The one I had there moved to $un ¢ity awhile back, having seen the dollar signs on the wall of the new hospital out there….)

But if you’re considering how much it costs to keep a car — taking into account insurance, regular servicing, repairs, gasoline, parking, and whatnot — the tab for maintenance, repairs, taxes, storage, and the stuff so routine that most of us never even think about it anymore very probably comes to more than it would cost to hire Uber or a taxicab to get around town. A LOT more…

Truth to tell, something over 90 percent of the places I go are within walking distance, or within a reasonably priced cab ride.

And given that amazing little factoid, one could argue — quite reasonably — that a person living in this location really has no need for a car. Especially if that person doesn’t commute to a job.

What the heck: not only that, but walking to the destinations around here comes under the heading of good exercise. When the weather is sane — which, believe it or not, is most of the time — you can walk to any of those places without putting yourself out much.

So…frankly, I’m beginning to think more & more that my son did me a favor by absconding with my car. Who needs it???

Re: Paul the Romanian Lover

Oh! how my parents hated him!!

They hated him for racist reasons — in their minds, Romanian wasn’t quite “white.” But…truth to tell, they were right, only in ways they didn’t understand.

P. had no compunctions about theft. Or about cheating on one’s wife.

First time this came to my attention, he and I had gone to the campus bookstore to buy a semester’s worth of textbooks. He’s wearing a student-looking fake letter jacket…right? You know whereof I speak: leather sleeves, university logo on the jacket’s body.

We’re standing in line with a couple piles of books, when quietly he slides two of them under his jacket and pulls up the zipper.

Uhm…what?

Shortly — after we’ve escaped with $40 worth of textbooks (in those days that was a lot of money: the equivalent of $70 or $80 today), he tells me he does that all the time. It’s one of his ways of funding his education!

Eep! Maybe my parents were right!

Well, I was far from the point where I was ready to admit that possibility.

Time passed. We were in love. La-dee-dah!

Then one night we’re in the sack, chatting post-coitally. And this is when he remarks, admiringly, that his best buddy is f*cking a barmaid that he picked up while the boys were out drinking. He thinks this is a good thing — yea, verily: a brilliant thing on the buddy’s part: because the guy’s wife is some eight months advanced in pregnancy and can’t accommodate him.

No kidding.

His wife. He gets her pregnant. She’s about to deliver his baby. And he can’t wait until she presents him with his son, but feels he must go out and pick up a chippy in a bar NOW by way of getting it off!

And P. thinks that’s just great. Brilliant, if anything!

This — finally! — was enough to get my attention!

Man, when they say “love goes blind at the garden gate,” they ain’t kidding!

It took a night and a day for this to soak in. Once it fully registered with me — that he was demonstrating just what kind of a guy he really was — I tossed him out of my life.

Never regretted it.

He ended up as a university administrator — apparently did fairly well for himself, on the mid-level career level. Would have had lots of access to cute college girls, too, eh?

His career took him to a UC campus in central California. No doubt a nice place to live…and UC would have presented me with any number of appealing job opportunities. As it no doubt presented him with any number of chickadees.

Ahhh, the good ole’ days!

And moving on…

Okay, so our call to the volunteer group that supposedly will help you get groceries and the like when you’re carless in Gaza: that was a FAIL.

What to do next?

M’hijito has offered to come over and get groceries for me. That is an exceptionally generous offer!!  As we all know, he has other things to do besides run errands for his mutther.

Other options:

  • Hire Wonder-Cleaning-Lady to make grocery-store runs for me. She comes in once a week anyway…maybe she’d be willing, for a little extra $$$, to pick up some things for me on the way here.
  • Try to get one of the grocery stores to deliver. Apparently, some of them will do so.
  • Give up! and hike to the nearest store through the unholy heat, stock up, haul the stuff home through the unholy heat.

If there’s another choice, I sure don’t know what it is. 

GRONK! Another sylvan day in Arizona

Grrrr!!!  I AIN’T GOIN’!!! No, nope, nooooo way! Not goin’ out in that unholy swampy heat to hike three blocks to a grocery store. The dawg and I can go hungry, by dayum!

Truth to tell, neither of us is about to go hungry. The larder has enough dog & human food to tide us over for several days. After which, we may hope, my present spate of crabbiness will have passed.

Seriously: What DO we need?

* Not dog food: three or four cans lurk in the storage room.
* Not human food. What remains on the shelves may not be the most delicious chow on the planet, but it’s perfectly OK and it’s unspoiled.
* Not wine. We’re on the wagon.
* Not cleaning goods. Everything is in stock.
* Not anything that I can think of, offhand.

And I figure that if you can’t think of it, you must not need it very badly. 😀

Hope that’s true, because I just made up my mind to skip this morning’s planned grocery junket.

Seriously: The weather is REVOLTING this morning. Hot, soggy, hazy, uggh-leee. Probably won’t be any better tomorrow…but if I can put off this hiking trip until tomorrow, maybe I’ll resent it a little less

***

Check this out: Duet: Partners in Health and Aging.  Apparently this is a volunteer group that will send folks out to do your grocery shopping or drive you around the city or whatever.

I’ve tried to reach them: no one answers the phone at their office. Apparently the “group” of volunteers isn’t large enough to man the phones. But…what the hey! Later today, I’ll try again.

If I can foist the annoying errands onto someone else, that will solve a HUGE  part of the problems poised by those idiots at the Mayo Clinic having put the kaibosh on my driver’s license.

There may be some other volunteer organization of this ilk. If today’s effort to get through to Duet fails, I’ll see if anyone else out there is in the free-help biz.

*****  Later ****

Yes…I did get through to someone at Duet.

To avail oneself of their benefits, you have to sign up with them and give them a bunch of private information. And they demand your phone number.

I explained that, because of the outrageous number of nuisance calls I get — day in and day out — I’ve had to block incoming from all but a few area codes.

He just didn’t seem to “get it.” Truly: I don’t think he understood what I was saying:  eight or ten nuisance calls a day naturally leads to one rejecting most incoming calls.

So…I don’t expect to get far with that bunch.

Ohhhh well. The world hasn’t ended yet. Probably won’t, in the near future.