DOES GO WRONG.
LOL! One of those days, that is…with a vengeance!
Well…maybe not that extreme. But certainly to an extent on the high side of ridiculous.
Last week I had the laptop worked on by an outfit called MacMedia, out in lovely Scottsdale’s tourist district. It’s almost a full hour’s drive out there, on a good day. One-way. But they’re worth it. These guys are brilliant, and whatever CAN be fixed, they WILL fix.
So yesterday, they summon me thither to come retrieve the spiffed up computer.
Traipse traipse traipse, traipse traipse traipse… Get out there, collect the machine: thrilled. They’ve somehow contrived to block ALL the blitz of incoming spam and scam emails!
Have they blocked my friends? Nooooo idea: presumably I’ll find out. But for the nonce, at least that mess is tidied up.
This morning, there was one more thing that needed to be attended to, and I wanted to look in to buying a new or refurbished laptop to have a back-up for when this one craps out. Which it will, sooner than later…of that you can be sure.
Traipse traipse traipse, traipse traipse traipse…
They said to get there about 9:15 to 9:30. Ducky: I’m a little early.
Wait wait wait, wait wait wait
9:30. No one around.
Stroll around Scottsdale’s agèd Fifth Avenue. About all that’s left by way of retail stores are hair salons and art galleries. Stroll stroll stroll…down to Indian School Road, one of the Valley’s unlovelier thoroughfares. Come upon an old, fenced-off motel: no doubt once a nice enough tourist trap, now a ruin. Wander through…looks like they’re getting ready to tear it down. Someday. Pretty clearly it’s been in this predicament for quite some time.
This was once a thriving, vibrant arts, restaurant, and fancy retail district. It’s a ghost town now.
Where have all the tourist traps gone,
Long time pa-a-ssin’…
Where have all the tourists gone,
Long time ago?
Roam back to the computer store. No sign of life.
Ohh, screw it!
Climb back in the car and head outta there.
Mission Unaccomplished!
Cruise back across the surface streets, passing at a distance the (highly!!!) upscale neighborhood where my best friend in graduate school lived, with her low-income-earning socially useful husband.
HOW did those two find that really rather cool and wonderful studio on a couple acres of land, adjunct to a large, real adobe richistani’s house with space for a vegetable garden, with a big swimming pool that no one but those two used and a view from the side of a very expensive mountain and a straight shot down 68th street into Tempe, right to the university?
Huh… Why have I never thought of that question before?
Not very curious as a kid, was I?
Oh well.
Driving driving driving, westward ever westward. Through tracts of palace-sized custom houses, their weird post-modern architecture uglier than pussly in my opinion, driving driving driving….
Think about my friend’s life. Think about her kids’ lives. Think about her ex-husband’s life. Think about my life. Think about my kid’s life. Think about my ex-husband’s life…driving driving driving….
Arrive back at the Funny Farm. By now I’ve been on the road around two hours.
Reflect that I intended to stop by the Safeway and get a booster shot to cover the current variant of the plague. Haul the computer in. Let the dog out. Climb back in the car: drive to the Safeway.
Wait is a minimum of 20 minutes, I’m told.
Now, I really don’t want to stand around breathing other folks’ germs even five minutes, to say nothing of 20-plus minutes.
Stalk back across the parking lot, jump in the car, drive out. Dodge a FRANTIC fire truck charging into the lot…did someone pass out while receiving their Omicron shot?
Weasel away from that mess.
Drive up to the Walgreen’s in the gangland bordering the ‘Hood just to the north. Squeak around a couple of sketchy looking clusters in the parking-lot; dodge into the store.
“We don’t have any of the vaccine. Call us on Monday to see…”
Jayzus.
Drive down to the Albertson’s on Gangbanger’s Way.
“You have to make an appointment several days in advance to get a shot.”
Jayzus.
Drive home.
Put on my favorite around-the-house/reading glasses. One of the temple pieces is about to fall off.
Call the beloved traveling glasses repair-dude (you would not believe this amazing man…and he comes to your house!). He’s maxed. Please call next Monday to see if he can find time to come by someday next week.
Dig out the newer, more bourgeois Costco glasses with the progressive Rx. They’re OK…I’m just not fond of having to tilt my head at a neck-kinking angle to read copy. Oh well.
Call the computer store. They beg me to come back. Ohhkayyyy.
Defrost a piece of salmon; cook it and an ear of corn on the grill. Feed the dog some of it, thereby ingratiating myself for the next week. Eat lunch/dinner.