Cold Weather Woosie

After six/seven straight days of unrelenting rain for the second time since surviving the storm of a few weeks earlier, I was beginning to think the sky was broken, had a hole in it.

I’d look out the patio window and wonder how it was possible for that much water to fall from the sky for so long.

And it was cold. So cold inside that I was dressed in layers ─ socks included, with the heat going and still felt chilled to the bone. Sometimes my fingers were so cold I could hardly hold the needlepoint needle, and my feet were so cold I considered purchasing a heating pad.

I actually researched a few online, was thrown off by the negative reviews, across the board, every make, every model ─ mostly about heating elements burning out, and made my own heating pad by warming up a towel in the microwave, then wrapping it around my feet.

Even though my DNA Story indicates 9% Scandinavian, I have a low tolerance for cold weather. What’s normal to most is freezing for me.

Made me think of that promise of double pane windows that will now without a doubt NOT materialize since Corporate fired the Community Manager that cared enough about us to plan for that upgrade.

The opening for a new Community Manager has finally been removed from Corporate’s website, so I’m assuming that means Corporate has found itself another punching bag.

As to how long that individual will last, we’ll see.

I did want to head down to the Community Room yesterday, Pizza Tuesday, but didn't want to go to the trouble of bundling up, plus boots, plus umbrella. I wanted to go there not only to find out if there’s news as to when the new manager will appear, but to double-check on a death notification my buddy Apache texted me on Saturday.

His message was “You know the guy Gene he passed away had dog always laid in grass”.

I don’t bother with many residents by name ─ it’s generally just a good morning or a wave when I see a resident, and there are any number of residents with dogs that lay in the grass, so I replied “Not sure who that is. What did he die of?”

No reply so, as the storm outside raged on, I didn’t give much thought as to who Gene might be. 

I never felt stir-crazy from being indoors for so long. I had Season 2 of Marvelous Mrs. Maisel to watch (hated what she did and who she did it with at the season finale), that new book to read, needlepoint of course, plenty recordings of new television programs to see and decide they warrant further viewing (I’m over Manifest, over Roswell, New Mexico, still love Young Sheldon and thus far liking The Passage), and my unit is located in that vortex between a Pokéstop and a Poke Gym so I can hunt from my couch.

Cute that when it’s raining outside, it also rains in the game.

Also, during my forced insideness, I learned how to make sweet potato chips in the convection oven. It’s slow and low in a conventional oven, but I get the same results going fast and high in the convection. It just takes closer watching to prevent burning and the results are actually crisper than the low and slow method.

THEN yesterday, out of nowhere the image of the Black Guy who’d sit on the bench with the dog that looked like rin tin tin lying in the grass popped into my head.

Oh No! Thought I, That’s the new resident I’d tried to fix Church Lady up with.

Though the attempt at matchmaking went nowhere, I’d see the guy around, we’d smile and wave at each other. What I know of him is that he’s a Navy vet and didn’t appear to be ill in any way visible so, though I trust my instincts and the image that popped into my head which tells me that’s the Gene my buddy Apache is referring to, I want to verify it’s he.

The sun is shining, it’s not wet outside ─ for the first time in like forever, so I’ll detour through the Community Room for verification as I had out to run errands before a third hole in the sky opens up.

I did not watch the SOTU. I just couldn’t take looking at his smug orange superior looking face.

There was, however, no escape from seeing snippets on this morning’s news and I was disgusted by what I saw on both sides of the isle.

Why do they continue to encourage him with standing and clapping when they know he gets off on the roar of the crowd?

Ignore him.

Wear ear plugs.

Sit on your hands.

Take a valium.

Fall asleep like the kid did.

And what's with the pissy look on Melania's face?