Monday, February 28, 2022

Week That Never Ended

With something to take care of every single day of last week, and out-of-the-area errands to run both Saturday and Sunday, there has been no down time for me to recharge.

It's like last week never ended.

I’m a person that, having had so much responsibility most of my life, keeping myself going at times with copious amounts of Coffee and NoDoze tablets — because there was no time to sleep, I now need a lot of down time.

Consequently, it's occurred to me quite a lot lately that, not getting the necessary down time, this retirement thing is not giving me all I’m due, that I’m being cheated.

I actually did a rant on this topic last month, killed the post but, inasmuch as Margaret posted this morning that she too "Was not diggin" this lack of free time and wished I had published that post, I pulled it out of the recycle bin, revived and worked into today's post.

I feel cheated because I still have to shop for groceries, cook, clean, do laundry, run errands, budget, pay bills, workout to keep my body from turning to stone. There are still taxes to be done, the doctor, dentist and a million little other things.

Retirement for me has pretty much turned into the same ole same ole as pre-retirement. The only difference being I don’t have to report daily to a 9 to 5, and I don’t have to raise children.

Make no mistake that seeing others, I suspect are older than I, being forced to return to the workforce by the state of the economy, I am grateful for this retirement and what little has been taken off my plate. Yet and still, I expected my plate to be a lot emptier than it currently is.

It does make me wonder how I managed to do it all before, when my plate was full to overflowing.

Elsewhere, it’s so far so good with going backwards on how the Mail Center is protected from break-ins. Thus far, mail thieves have not become aware of the now easy access and returned.

I’ve yet to see the new Community Manager, but folks tell me she’s nice.

Pardon my pessimism, but that will change.

Except for Nurse Ratched, they always start off coming across as nice.

It also appears the new Manager is taking care of business.

Again, pardon the pessimism, but that also won’t last.

Next Door Neighbor (NDN) had, for months, been trying to get a problem with her sink backing up looked into. She was thinking probably a new disposal was required.

Neither No. 8 (the Tyrant) or the Maintenance Guys were responsive because, as NDN had forecasted, the Tyrant didn’t want to pay for a new disposal and the Maintenance Guys didn’t want to have to do the work.

NDN went down, spoke to No. 9. Lo and behold, the Maintenance Guys showed up shortly after and did their due diligence, new disposal and all.

Saturday, February 26, 2022

Black History Parade

Driving to the Farmer’s Market, to soak up the sun, listen to music, was preempted today by an appointment at the Tire Place to check that tire I’d gotten an alert on back in December.

Though the kid at the Air Check Station said "It’s probably just the cold weather", I’d been keeping an eye on the pressure, saw that tire lost air just a tad sooner than it should AND with the possibility of a drive out of town in the not-too-distant future for a three-day meditation retreat, figured I’d better get the tire properly looked after.

Arriving at the location, I saw barriers preventing my turning into the plaza housing the Tire Place and other businesses.

Then I saw people marching down the street.

Though the manner of dress didn’t seem appropriate for what I'd assumed were demonstrators protesting Russia invading Ukraine, I was sorry I’d not heard of it so I could have made arrangements to join them.

Then I saw a blinking street sign indicating "Black History Parade".

The clothing made sense.

Inasmuch as I was barred from reaching my destination, what I should have done was to turn right — the only direction allowed to proceed in, pull over and park in that shopping center, watched the parade.

That’s not what happened.

Instead, I wasted 30 minutes of my life driving around, stuck in traffic with people who, just like me, were trying to find ways around the parade, get to our destination. One I gave up, found my way back to where I'd left off, with plans to park, watch the parade, I found the parade had ended and I could now turn left into the plaza.

Guys at the tire place found a "Tiny nail" in the tire. No charge for repair and, when I asked why, "We don’t charge for minor fixes as a way to drum up business".

Works for me, though just the fact I can pull in and get a free air check is incentive enough for me to buy my tires from them.

While waiting for the repair, thinking there probably would be entertainment at the parade’s end, I checked Google information as to where the parade began, where it would end.

Lo and behold, I was there, at the parade's end.

It was just a few feet away, across the parking lot in front of Home Depot.

Who knew?

"Rich Boy Sandwich" sounds interesting, but $20 sandwiches??? I don't think so.

Others didn't mind. The line was long and unending.

Our Brown brothers and sisters participated in the parade and provided entertainment.

Little Miss Black Awareness Queen.

I was raised in the church but, opting to walk the road of a contemplative, one who meditates, I haven't been inside a church in more years that I can remember. I do recall, however, that Praise Dancing was just beginning in the churches, as my church days were ending.

For those of you who are not familiar with the words "Praise Dancing", it's a form of worship. Praise Dancers use their bodies to express the word and spirit of God.

The roaring sound you'll hear in the Praise Dancing videos is the wind, which was blowing something fierce in that area.

All in all, it looks like, thanks to that slow leak, I was in the right place today.

Thursday, February 24, 2022

Duck Duck Goose

The cleaning portion of today’s dental visit went smoothly but, when it was time for the examination, I asked if I was to be examined by my regular dentist, Dr. McDreamy. The Hygenist said no, it was his day off, she was handing me off to a Dr. S.

I think McDreamy is phasing out, semi-retired.

Something told me Dr. S. was young Doogie, the DDS who looked to be about 15 years old that I’d gotten stuck with the last time McDreamy wasn’t available.

I’d never seen Doogie before that time, and he made a bad first impression with a display of ego and overconfidence.

He said he’d found an area up front, lower teeth, that appeared to be spacing. That it looked like it once had a filling, the filling fell out and that it was an easy fix. "We wouldn’t even have to numb the area" and seemed to assume I'd be scheduling with him.

I’d never had a filling in that area which, if Doogie had first looked at my chart he would have known. So, rather than walking in there acting/talking like a big man in an effort to impress, he left me feeling NOT impressed and distrustful .... that he was trying to pad the bill with unnecessary work.

At any rate, I asked the Hygenist, "Is Dr. S. the young one?"

When she said yes, I said, "No. I don’t want him. Do you have any women?"

She laughed about my saying no to Dr. S., said they had no women DDS, then handed me off to a Dr. C.

I’m surprised she didn’t ask me why I didn’t want Dr. S. If she had, I’d have just said, "I don’t care for his energy, don't trust his opinion".

At any rate, Dr. C was very thorough, too thorough. It’s time to have the old metal fillings removed, replaced with what’s now, and two crowns are involved.

I am not looking forward to all the work required but, looking at the close-up photos he showed me, I can see it's time.

The work is going to cost a fortune, but when I expressed I was more concerned about the pain than the cost, asked if he could put me to sleep with gas, he said no, but he could give me some kind of nitrous oxide solution.

"It won’t take away ALL the pain", said he. "But you’ll be so buzzed that you won’t care".

Sold! I’ll take what I can get.

At any rate, I took the scenic route (streets instead of freeway) to the dental office and pulled over when I saw, what I originally thought were lawn ornaments, come to life.

I’m a City girl. Consequently, I don’t know what these are, but I’m thinking either duck or goose.

Whatever kind of critters they are, how are they here in a business district?

Where did they come from as there’s nothing but offices, government buildings and traffic in the area.

Two and a half hours later, on the way back to the complex, I saw the critters were still there.

I guess this is where they live full time.

Curious as to what this place is, I parked and found the building is a Library/Park situation.

What caught my attention, other than the ducks or geese, whichever they are, was the War Memorial out front … Civil War.

A portion of the memorial is dedicated to those from San Bernardino who were Killed in Action in Viet Nam.

Odd that I should come across a war memorial when, here we are, on the day Thing 45's boyfriend has started a war. As if there are not enough problems in the world.

Apparently, the Horsemen are coming — a pandemic, a war, that's two of the four.

Just sayin.

Wednesday, February 23, 2022

Chasing Rainbows

Woke up this morning to one of those seldom rains in California days.

Heading to the Pain Cave, I saw a rainbow had formed in the parking lot’s asphalt.

Second rainbow of the day. The first being the rainbow mask I’d decided to wear today.

Driving out of the parking lot, I heard what sounded like little rocks hitting the car. Pausing to see what gives, I suddenly realized it was hail stones.

I haven’t experienced hail since I was a teenager. There’s been hail in other areas around me since then, but it always passed me by until now.

Maybe this global warming thing will bring a phenomenon I’ve yet to experience — snow. I can see it off in the distance, on the mountain tops, but have never experienced snow up close and personal.

Popping into the market, after this morning’s workout, what did I see but a rainbow had formed in the market’s parking lot.

Now here we are in the early afternoon. It’s a little chilly, but it’s all dry outside. The sun is shining, residents are out and about, as are the landscapers.

With rainbows and hail today and 2.22.22 yesterday, I should have been buying lottery tickets, but didn't.

I’ve an appointment with the dentist tomorrow. Maybe the luck of it all will hold until then. I’ll stop somewhere along the way to play.

Tuesday, February 22, 2022

The Hate You Give

I hope the guys have fun in what, based on my understanding, is probably the remainder of their lives in State Prison.

Today, Twosday (2/22/22), supposedly is a good luck day, an Angel day, the time "to seek balance and coordination with others" and, as a result of the hate these three gave through the words of their hate filled conversations with friends and family through the years about people of color, the text messages read during the court proceeding, and in deeds when they saw an opportunity to act on that hate — chase and ultimately murder a Black jogger, it appears this hate crime verdict is the universe balancing and coordinating where they go in future.

I hear the difference between the Federal Prison they’ve been housed in and the State Prison they’re headed to is like the difference between a country club and the ghetto. Not to mention there are lots and lots and lots of people of color in State Prison. They’ll constantly be surrounded by the color they so hate which, to me, is the definition of having died and gone to Hell for a racist.

Weird, but Trainer and I had this conversation of Heaven and Hell just last week. I don’t remember what brought the topic up, but I said I didn’t believe in Heaven or Hell as actual places. That, based on having personally experienced Hell, I’d come to the conclusion both are state and stages of mind right here where we are.

Trainer didn’t buy it, you won’t either, but I know what I know.

At any rate, the above three bozos, have lived a nice safe life in-between (purgatory), didn’t do well with the choices they made in this life — hated, expounded hatred, acted on that hatred, so now it’s game over … go to Hell, go directly to Hell, do not pass Go, do not collect $200 dollars.

No news yet as to whether the father son bozos (Gregory and Brandon Case), who chased and shot at FedEx Driver D'Monterrio Gibson, while he was making deliveries, will be charged with a Hate Crime, but I certainly hope so because that’s what it was … hate motivated.

To counter all the feels that this crap just never ends, I’ll tell you about something I’ve been reading online that I find soothing and should be made into a book, which is a group of nurses sharing the last words people have said on their death beds.

The last words, as the article states, "range from witty to tragic to profound", but the one that stands out for me is unbelievably sweet, kind.

The nurse recounted, “I started my nursing career on a palliative unit. In my first three months as an RN, I pronounced seven deaths. This one patient had advanced dementia and often believed he was at work while he was awake in the hospital. He would often give us, the nurses and care aides, tasks and jobs to do, as he believed himself to be our superior. One day, near the end of December, he asks me, 'When is New Year's? What day is it this year?' I tell him New Year's will be the upcoming Tuesday. He nods and tells me that he thinks he's going to have to quit after the new year. This job is getting too difficult for him, and he can't keep up. It's time to retire. I tell him we appreciate all the hard work he's done, how we'll miss him terribly when he's gone, and that he was a great employer whom we all loved working with. That Tuesday, January 1, he passed away peacefully in his sleep at 2:00 a.m."

Monday, February 21, 2022

President’s Day

No disrespect to Joe (it’s a tough job, somebody’s got to do it, but at least that somebody is no longer No. 45), but for me, it’s another Monday.

Woke up yesterday to find there were no eggs for breakfast in the refrigerator.

I was sure I'd restocked on my last trip and had plenty but, oh well, I made a quick run to the market and noticed the "mask required" signage has been removed. Now it’s just decal lettering next to the entry door saying masks are “suggested” if you’ve NOT been vaccinated.

I’m assuming the policy change is the result of the mask mandate having been rolled back to indicate those of us who are fully vaccinated are no longer required to mask up indoors.

Is it just me who now feels, with the wording of the policy change that, since I’m masked up, people assume I’m doing so because I’m NOT vaccinated?

It’s all so convoluted. No one knows who is vaxxed, who’s not, what’s safe, what’s not but no matter the mandate, it’s going to be masks and wipes for me until I get the all clear — however long that takes.

At least now, with the roll back, incidents of store employees enforcing the prior mask mandate being attacked will cease, but that won’t help the male and female Karens I’ve seen on TikTok and in the news who’ve already lost jobs, businesses, friends, put on a no-fly list, ruined their reputations and lives by acting the fool over being told to put a mask on.

Now that the Tyrant is gone, there’s chatter amongst the resident that there will be changes.

I doubt it because … what’s to change, except one thing different is that Head Maintenance Guy (HMG) is no longer locking and unlocking the mail center — a measure instituted by the Tyrant to put a halt to the constant break-ins.

After mail thieves managed to break in through every key lock, and other types of bars and locks installed as preventive measures, the only thing that worked was when HMG was given the duty to manually bar the security gate from the inside at 5:00 p.m. and manually unbar 9:00 a.m., Monday – Saturday.

I’m sure he got paid extra for it, and I’m equally sure his lazy arse didn’t like having the responsibility. There was even that bruhaha a few weeks ago when he failed to unlock, causing the mail carrier to turn around, leave without dropping mail off.

So, when on Friday, I ran into Next Door Neighbor and Church Lady complaining about having to once again use a key on the handle of the security gate, to gain entrance into the mail center, it didn’t come as much of a surprise that we’d gone back to what did not work before.

HMG probably did not even bother to ask No. 9 (the new manager) if he could no longer have to trouble himself with that responsibility.  My guess is he just stopped doing it.

Is it possible HMG is purposely setting No. 9 up for a fall?

She may not even be aware of all the prior break-ins and how the postal inspector people threatened to cease delivering to this property if management and Corporate didn't find a way to fix the problem.

After a few unsuccessful fixes, it got fixed, and now the fix is undone.

So long as the mail thieves don’t discover the change, we may not see this again.

But, if the mail thieves do come back and destroy the center again, No. 9 and HMG are gonna have a lot of splainin to do. Probably just No. 9, as HMG will throw her under the bus.

Saturday, February 19, 2022

Tale of Two Cities

Weather was too nice to stay indoors today, hide away from the world with needlepoint and recorded television programs, so I headed out to drive out-of-the area, 20 miles to the farmer’s market to listen to music, people watch.

Heading to the car, whom did I see yet again but my buddy Apache.

This time he was here helping a resident with a flat tire.

Wouldn’t you know he already had news and advised me that we do indeed have a new Complex Manager, a woman whom, he said, began working here last Monday.

THAT was quick. So quick that I suspect the new person, No. 9, had been decided upon even before the job opening was posted. Possibly, someone who knew someone, a friend of a friend needing a job.

Friends don’t let Friends work for toxic corporations so, as to whether they will remain friends if it doesn't work out, remains to be seen.

Remembering how the ground was so hot last week at the farmer’s market that my feet were on fire through the Birkenstocks, I started to wear walking shoes but instead wore the camo Birkenstock sandal, because it had a thicker sole and I wanted to look cute, not functional. Consequently, I didn’t log in near as many steps as I’d have liked to — only 2500, but I put in more steps than this little cutie, who seemed to have made up her mind that she was done with this walking thing.

This far and no further Dad

The Holistic Habits stand wasn’t there last week, can’t count on their being there next week, so I jumped on the opportunity to pick up a jar of a product I’d used before for when that old injury in my right shoulder acted up.

I had a hard time locating this week’s musical offering. I could hear it, but it took some looking to find it was coming from a D.J. over in a corner.

Off in the distance like that, away from the crowds, I doubt he got many tips. Plus, the music was kinda suckie. I couldn't even figure out what genre it was.

People who live in that area have no idea have blessed they are. A short walk, jog, or drive and there's places to go, things to do, all manner of eateries to enjoy.

I did see a brand-new senior complex had been built in the area, checked into it, but it’s the same old story of my being in a gray area. I'm either over income and thus can’t quality for the many new low-income complexes going up AND, at the same time, do not have sufficient income to quality for a regular senior complex — a non-low-income building.

The one I saw, within walking distance of the farmer’s market location, is going for $3,000 A MONTH!!! And you can just bet that will increase every six months.

I’ll stick to cheap rent in the area where, after an afternoon of basking in the sun, watching the more fortunate, I returned to where the words "people watching" have a whole new meaning.

Friday, February 18, 2022

Getting Worse Out There

I don’t know if it was a response to my spontaneous plea of "Oh Lord have mercy Jesus, I’m soooo tired!!!" that I sent out into the Universe at Monday’s workout, or if I somehow disconnected from whomever I was channeling, but my energy level was back up and on point Wednesday morning.

I had a good day in the Pain Cave.

Since I was feeling it, I had hoped to put in some miles on the college campus yesterday, but the Santa Ana winds were prohibitive so, instead, it was needlepoint and watching recorded episodes of the exposé on Hugh Hefner — Secrets of Playboy.

Times have changed, we’ve all seen and heard a lot since then about how a celeb’s lecherous private life is hidden behind a fairly wholesome public persona. So, though interesting stuff is now coming out, it’s difficult to be shocked.

My friend Q worked for Playboy back in the day. I don’t recall his job position ─ maybe something to do with the magazine, but he told a funny story about leaving headquarters, headed for his car, and finding one of the bunnies on the ground, flat on her back, stuck under the rear of her VW Beetle.

As I remember the story, her car had been parked on a slope, she’d been leaving work as well, was standing behind the car and somehow the car rolled back, knocked her to the ground, began to roll over her, continue down the incline, but got stopped by her enormous implants.

The visual I got was a pretty little lady, covered in car up to her tatas.

Q is talking about arranging a little get-together. If and when that happens, since he tells the story better than I, I’ll get him to repeat on video and put the story on the blog.

A date took me a couple times to a Playboy Club.

I never saw anything like what the exposé is disclosing about how the bunnies were manhandled but, of course, I wouldn’t have. It was just dinner and a show.

Though the date (someone I knew in high school who was back courting me after my divorce) was trying to impress me that he had a Key — a membership, which is what one needed back then to get into the Playboy Clubs, I don’t recall being impressed.

It was just something to do, somewhere to be taken.

I will say this though, Hugh Hefner didn’t seem to discriminate.

During a period in life where there were very few places I could go and not be refused admittance or stared at for being out-of-place or treated differently, I felt completely comfortable and accepted in the Playboy Club. However, I had more fun when a group of work pals and I went to Chippendale’s one evening.

My buddy Apache was here yesterday. He’d dropped by to celebrate the birthday of D, the assault victim and that of a woman described as "The Little Helpful Lady" in the blog, because she was so helpful when we had activities — helping to set up, clean up, making birthday cakes.

Apache is spending so much time here that management might as well give him his unit back.

Not only is he spending a lot of time HERE, he’s trying to lure some of the residents to THERE — where he is. Wants them to take the shuttle to play bingo at his place since there are no activities here.

It appears he’s taking over as Activity Director as he’ll be back today to shuttle away a couple of residents to karaoke — another activity we used to have here, but no longer.

I’ve not heard of a new hire for the Manager position, but the job opening no longer appears on Corporate’s website.

Time will tell if a No. 9 is on the way and, if so, how long that person will last, but good luck to him/her and us.

Handsome Man is still in his unit, so I guess the fact that No. 8 is no longer here (the Tyrant) made all the difference for his circumstances.

It’s been a lousy Black History Month insofar as Black Lives Matter.

First there was the no-knock warrant murder of Amir Locke.

Then came the attempted murder of D’Monterrio Gibson, who was targeted for Working While Black.

In a case similar to the father/son McMichaels, who murdered Black jogger Ahmaud Arbery, FedEx driver D’Monterrio was chased and shot at by Brandon Case and his father Gregory Case. The Chases thought D’Monterrio looked suspicious while going about his job of delivering packages. Felt he didn’t belong in the neighborhood and I guess, in their minds, the right thing to do was to try to murder him.

Now we have two teens fighting at the mall ─ one White kid, one Black kid.

Guess which of the two was arrested.

When the cops arrived on the scene, the White kid was winning, looked to need no assistance from anyone as he was on top, had the Black kid pinned underneath, was whaling on him. The female cop drags the White kid off top of the Black kid, sits him down on the couch while her partner tackles the Black kid, still on the ground, flips him, puts his knee in his back, pulls out the handcuffs.

After sitting the White kid on the couch, the female cop turns her back on him, runs over to assist her partner in arresting the Black kid.


Adding insult to injury, while the cops are manhandling the Black Kid, in the full version of the video, you can see the White kid get off the couch, stand behind and over the cops, gleefully yelling the N-word at the Black kid.

We're never gonna catch a break. It's insane.

Ten more days until Black History Month ends. No truce in sight.

Race relations are getting worse, not better.


Daunte's family is probably upset over the lite sentence, but I ain't mad at this.

Wednesday, February 16, 2022




While my area was getting off/on Flash Floods yesterday, just a few miles over, my friend the Archeologist was getting Hailstorms. Other areas got frost and a bit of snow.

That's California for ya.

I can’t imagine living anywhere else.

Tuesday, February 15, 2022

Fair Warning

Still dealing with that energy drain and waking up to our lovely warm weather mutating into cold, rainy, dark, gloom overnight, it's fair warning and woe to any neighbor falling on the stairs today because the plan for me is to do absolutely nothing but rest.

I’ll call 911, but I’m not opening the door, not leaving the unit.

May not even get off the couch.

It was a miracle that I suited up, headed for the Pain Cave, pushed myself, completed yesterday’s workout.

I was counting on the fact that sometimes a workout can refresh, restore, renew.

Not this time.

I was so tired at the end of the workout that I slumped over, said out loud to myself, "Oh Lord have mercy Jesus, I’m soooo tired!!!". To which Trainer replied, "Oh you don’t have to call me that. Remember we decided on Big Guy ... Big Poppa Pump ... Big Hoody Daddy ... Super Mega Destroyer or, you can just call me Great Mortal Zappa".

Great Mortal Zappa? LOL. How does this guy come up with these.

At any rate, today is my day of rest. I've had a bubble bath, breakfast, am yet to paint my face but, once I do, the plan is to jump into the warm comfortable camo onesies, nap off/on the entire day.

Watching a crime show late Sunday night, I had a wait a minute moment, much like one I had a few years back when a wooden coffee cup holder in the background of a show caught my eye because it was the exact match for the one I kept on my kitchen counter at that time.

Then there was that time when Brittney was showing off her closet and a bag hanging on a rack caught my attention.

It happened to be the self-same bag I’d gotten as a freeby for purchasing Estee Lauder perfume.

I remember posting at the time that I didn’t care much for the bag because it was all flowery and I’m not a flowery type person, but I kept it.

Good thing because it came in handy just the other day, when I was looking for something to transport the bedroom laptop to/from the electronic store.

Perfect fit.

Sunday’s crime show was about a woman accused of ending her son-in-law.

Angry at 13 years of his mistreating her, his wife (her daughter) and their children, she made a conscious decision to take him out, freely admitted to the crime, was gleeful over the fact he was gone.

Watching her seated in the interrogation room, the shirt she was wearing prompted me to get up, check the closet for something I’d bought at Walmart some years ago.

Sure enough.

Of course, my shirt, a cheap Walmart purchase to begin with, has seen better days, but it’s the same color, same number, same yellow stripe, same shirt — now generally used to kick around inside when cleaning.

Monday, February 14, 2022

Love Is In The Air

Yep, it's Monday again, with the double whammy of also being Valentine's Day.

Love IS in the air but, fortunately, I've been vaccinated.

Saturday, February 12, 2022

Energy Drain

After experiencing two/three weeks of boundless energy, I woke up this morning totally fatigued for no reason other than, overnight, I’d somehow tapped into someone’s else’s stuff.

Being an empath can be exhausting. Instead of tapping into other people’s stuff, which solves nothing, why can I not tap into which numbers are coming up in the lottery, so I can play and win.

At any rate, I had things to do today, so I pushed through being so tired that I could hardly walk and headed out.

One errand was to drop off the bedroom laptop for installation of a new battery and resolution of sign-in issues caused by one of those Microsoft upgrades that plagues us all, causes problems every single time.

Though I did not recognize the voice of the Tech Guy I turned the laptop over to, he did appear to fit the description given me when I called for support back in January — "Come in for service, ask for me — the tall handsome guy".

I wish I’d gotten the Tech Girl because, though he was nice to look at, he was kind of an arse. Not rude per se, just an arse.

I’d always wondered what women meant by saying some guy had "gaslighted" them. Now I think I get it, and it must mean try to make you seem stupid, because when I pointed out how the Microsoft upgrade had created two of me to login — one administrator, one a guest, he said he didn’t see that when he booted up the laptop, and intimated it didn’t happen; Or, if it did happen, it was gone now.

When I had him restart the laptop and pointed out the two sign-ins ... clearly visible, it was "Okay. We’ll take care of that".

It was the same thing when I pointed out I had to manually input my password, because the laptop did not allow me to sign-in automatically. Instead, there was a message "Password Not Found", necessitating my having to manually input.

He said that message and extra step didn’t happen.

"Yes, it did" said I. "You had to input my password both times you booted up".

He insisted that no, he did not. Everything opened right up when he turned on the laptop.

By now, I was thinking he was not only gaslighting me, but that someone should tell him drugs are really bad for brain function.

Too exhausted to make him restart yet again, so I could point out he was wrong, I let that one go, but he was looking a lot less handsome to me by the time we completed our business.

Since I was at the electronic store, and never did find my missing blood pressure monitor, I purchased a new one.

Once I returned to the complex, set the monitor up, I couldn’t get it to work — it wouldn’t pair.

Not in the mood to deal with any more crap, the monitor has been repackaged, made ready to return when I pick up the repaired laptop — probably tomorrow, as I just received notification work has been completed.

I hope tomorrow is his day off.

While I was out and about, inasmuch as I was in the area of that Farmer’s Market I ran into last week, I stopped by to soak up some sun, listen to music, people watch.

Insofar as people watching, seeing some guy walking his two dogs through the shopping center, I assumed he was just out exercising until I saw him all of a sudden quickly walking towards a vehicle that looked like a school bus turned into a home on wheels.

Before I could grab my phone, take a photo of him and the dogs entering that vehicle, he was quickly joined by a woman, who evidently had been walking an additional two dogs. The whole lot of them got in the home on wheels before I could get their family photo and drove away.

The hurried exit may have been due to the fact the dogs probably went to the bathroom in the shopping center and the potty areas were not cleaned up after.

Another interesting sight was the Sugar Cane Stand, where the guys turned the canes into an energy drink.

My guess is the "energy" comes from an over-abundance of 100 percent pure unadulterated sugar.

I could have used the energy, but didn't want to risk ending up feeling worse, rather than better.

Stomping on the cane shavings, to compact for discard, gave a whole new meaning to what us Black people say when a meal tastes so good that it's like the cook had put their whole self in it, cooked with soul — "put your foot in it". LOL.

Whereas last week’s music was a bluegrass group, this week it was jazz.

Jazz is not my thing. I don’t hate it, it’s just not something I’d add to my playlist, but I did enjoy the sun on my masked face, the sound of people bustling around me, not having to interact with any one of them, while listening to music.

Friday, February 11, 2022

When the Cats Away

Us seniors have been a whole week without a Complex Manager and, thus far, we’ve been doing just fine.

Residents, feeling less threatened, are beginning to speak out, express how glad they are to see the Tyrant gone.

One resident, who lives just a little aways, down the walkway, was saying that, on the Tyrant’s last day, the Tyrant approached him saying "Your dog barks too much and I have video to prove it".

That sounds about right, as the Tyrant did concern himself with things that didn’t matter, like freaking out over the painted rocks, instead of focusing on requested repairs.

The resident’s dog does bark but, unlike the dog overlooking the grassy knoll, which dog is a rescue with issues and barks all day from early AM to late night at anything that moves, this resident’s dog only barks when someone stands in front of his family’s patio. He’s territorial.

The resident’s response to the Tyrant saying, "I have video to prove your dog barks too much" asked, "Where were you standing when you took the video?"

Of course, he was standing in front of that resident’s patio, which caused the dog to bark.

Case closed.

I think that must have been the day I caught video of the Tyrant himself, out in the wild, walking back down the walkway from that direction, looking all pompous and triumphant.

I hope he’s not in a position of authority in his new job, where he can threaten and intimidate others.

There had been rumblings on the Grapevine that the Tyrant had also told Handsome Man, because of what his son had done, he (Handsome Man) was responsible for several lease violations and can no longer remain a resident.

I’d been expecting that, but it wasn’t confirmed until I ran into Apache on Wednesday, who said he’d recently spoken to Handsome Man about his being told he has to move.

Out of curiosity, I reviewed my lease and Handsome Man’s situation fall under Section 18 — Conduct and Compliance with Agreement, Laws and Rules (You are responsible for your own actions and the actions of your Related Parties). Also, Section 21 — Crime Free Community (You and your Related Parties: May not engage in criminal activity on or near your Residence or the Property). That section goes on in detail to describe what "Criminal Activity" consists of, one of which is sexual offices as supported by quotes from two sections of the Penal Code.

It’s a pretty comprehensive lease, leaves little to chance. Too bad I never read it before because I learned I myself am in violation of Section E.9 Appliances — turn on cold water before starting the garbage disposal.

Oopsie, I always turn on hot water.

Have you ever heard of this cold instead of hot water thing? 

Do you know why cold?

Thinking about Drum Major's comment that she hoped I didn't get kicked out for being scantily dressed the day I was seminude on the front porch, I scanned the lease and find nudity to be a gray area. Something they can use as a Conduct violation had management seen me and wanted to make an issue to get rid of me, though not specifically spelled out. The closest specificity is Section 49 — Pool/Spa (Don't wear excessively revealing clothing).

Handsome Man is so embarrassed by it all that he’s been keeping a low profile. Thus, he'd not learned the Tyrant is no longer in charge here.

I don’t know what deadline he’d been given — it’s already been over a month since his son did what he did and, generally, once a person has been asked to leave, they only have 30 days, but he’s still here.

Apache is now encouraging him to try to sweet talk Assistant Manager into giving him grace — rescinding the Tyrant’s decree.

Doubtful that will happen, but worth a try.