Mein d’Horreur

Is it just me or is everyone receiving suggestions in their feed for Halloween decorations?

I myself began receiving notifications as early as May.

More recently it’s been Halloween AND Christmas.

The skeleton suggestions are making me want to put a skeleton in the patio chair this year. However, considering where I live, with so many of us close to becoming skeletons, thinking it would be insensitive, in poor taste, I’ve thus far fought off the temptation, even though prices are low right now — with the more expensive skeletons half off.

One item I saw fit right in with the Halloween costume I’ve planned for this year.

Too perfect and appropriately priced because it’s so early, I couldn’t resist.

Weeks passed, more weeks passed, then more. I never received the item and figured I’d been scammed.

No matter, thought I. The cost made it not worth losing sleep over, so I forgot all about it.

But then I began receiving shipping notifications.

I hadn’t realized it was coming from Australia, thus the wait as it slowly wound its way through customs.

It’s a good thing I received shipping notifications because, after having forgotten all about the purchase and then finding a box at my door a few days ago — a box that vibrated when I picked it up and was making noises, had I not realized it must be what the notications were all about, I would have fled and called for a check by the squad that handles explosive devices.

How did all this shaking rattling rolling even make it through customs?

So, what was making all that racket in the box you ask.

Unable to turn it off, I put it in a corner where I figured it would go undisturbed, but there was still the occasional thump thump thump in the box as the hand was set off by something or other.

Not wanting the battery to run out before Halloween, I set about unscrewing the battery compartment yesterday, as the hand squirmed in my hand and, in the process, it suddenly stopped.

I’d somehow made contact with and loosened the off/on button, a button I tried before but could not get to move.

This mein d’horreu, aka Hand of Horror is a dead giveaway as to what this year’s costume is to be, not to mention I let the cat out of the bag in an earlier post, but for those of you who did not read that earlier post …… what’s your guess as to this year’s Halloween costume?

I'm still thinking about grabbing one of the skeletons before prices go up.

Mouse Trap, Part 2

Meat Man escaped the trap Homegirl and I planned in the Community Room.

He didn’t show during the class.

I didn’t want to stick around for bingo, so Homegirl and I exchanged telephone numbers. She’ll call me to come down when next she encounters her stalker.

We don’t have a script. We just want to see the look on his face when he sees both of us together and realizes we’ve been sharing stories about his unsuccessful gameplay.

The class on entertainment for no or low cost was kinda interesting. Activity Director is going to send me an application for a program that enables me to "cut the cable cord and get your movies and TV shows from Hulu, Netflix, Amazon Prime" at less than what I’m currently paying for cable.

Inasmuch as cable/internet is costing me $210.97 monthly, I’m open to possibly losing some of my favorite cable shows if the difference in price is worth it.

Other suggestions for free entertainment were "Take a free class at your local gardening center or craft store; Check out reduced cost movies at a theatre; Visit local museums on their monthly free museum days; Take a walking tour of your area with friends".

Saying I’d be up for a walking tour, because I need to get back to training but it’s no longer safe to walk this neighborhood, Activity Director directed me to Redland’s Umbrella Alley.

Evidently, alleys decorated with hundreds of multicolor umbrellas (450 here), to block the sun’s rays, is a thing word wide.

I dunno. The alley doesn't look long enough to provide much walking exercise and, the last time I encountered an alley, the smell of urine turned me away from the business I was heading for.

Also, last time I was in Redlands — which is considered a premier area, there were more unhoused people on the streets than we have around here.

Consequently, I won’t be making a special trip to check it out. However, next time I’m at the craft store in that area, I might take a looksee.

Inasmuch as the wildflowers on the patio are surviving the hot dry weather, but there’s no signs of life from the hot peppers and tomato seeds, a free class at the gardening center is a good idea.

I'm leaving the radishes to do as they will until I get around to digging them up and restarting in a larger pot, less seeds.

Postscript

A new auto center popped up in the area near the craft store and Sprouts Farmer’s Market I frequent. That center includes a Jeep Dealership. So, on Thursday, instead of driving way far away to where I usually take the car for annual maintenance, I'd scheduled service at the new closer dealership.

Not sure if I’ll use them again.

The intake felt awkward. It wasn’t that the Service Advisor was rude. He just seemed put upon, like he was somehow being inconvenienced. Didn’t communicate well, didn’t even ask if I had an appointment. Instead, kind of rushed me away by saying something about his doing this, that the other ... that I couldn’t make out, then said "I'm actually on my way to lunch".

Consequently, in the waiting room, I wasn’t certain of what was happening. Was my car being serviced or had it been driven off to the side until he returned from lunch?

Didn’t have long to ponder because I was notified, some 45 minutes later, work was done, car ready to go.

So quick, compared to the two/three hours I’m accustomed to waiting. Didn’t even get very far in finishing my book.

I appreciated the speed. However, all in all, I’m not sure I’ll use them again, unless it's an emergency.

It wasn’t just the awkward intake, but I’m not sure I can trust that, in spite of the paperwork that indicates they did, that they completed the multi-point inspection and everything else that is to be included in maintenance because, when taking trash to the dumpster this morning, I thought to check to see if the tires had been rotated.

They were not.

How do I know?

Last year I’d painted, with fingernail polish, a red dot on the left rear tire.

Checking that dot after last years’ service, I saw that tire was now on the left front of the car, which made me comfortable in trusting that dealership.

After service this year, the tire with the dot remains on the left front tire, which makes me question if this new dealership did anything other than a quick oil change.

Can’t trust anyone these days.

So much was happening at Friday’s bingo that I forgot to mention the day was Red Light’s birthday.

We surprised her with a card, cake, cupcakes at break time.

Buttons — our 87 year old that uses those cute buttons to fill her card, tells me she's going in for outpatient surgery next month for skin cancer removal ... the 6th in 10 years.

What makes her so susceptible she says is "1) My age 2) I’m fair skinned 3) I have blue eyes and 4) I don’t drink coffee".

I didn’t doubt what she said about coffee, but you know by now that I research everything.

This is what I found ... coffee prevents skin cancers because of an "enzyme called ATR, which plays a key role in the survival of cells damaged by ultraviolet (UV) rays. Inhibiting ATR can eliminate UV-damaged cells that are precancerous. Because decaf coffee doesn't contain caffeine, it doesn't have this effect".

Learn something every day.

I asked Buttons if the spot is always in the same place. She said "No. It appear wherever".

Since she was so willing to talk about it, and I was learning, I further asked the location of the current spot.

"On my leg".

"How was it found? Like did you feel a pain and figure it out?"

"No. The doctor found it".

The image that popped into my head was that of her doctor examining her naked 87-year-old body for spots. So, curious as I was as to how the doctor found it, I didn’t think I could handle the answer and questioned no further.

Mouse Trap

So far so good with staying indoors this weekend — not seeing anyone, not going anywhere, catching up on recorded TV programs, crafting.

That never ending needlepoint project, which I began in May of ’21 having no idea it was to be as challenging as it has turned out to be, is now in its 25th month, with a total of 1567 day-by-day hours put in thus far.

I also pulled out the sewing machine and began mapping out a quilt for the great granddaughter, expected to be born into this troubled universe around Christmas time.

Though granddaughter and her husband would probably prefer boho colors — gender neutrals that would be appropriate for either a boy or a girl, like I somewhat did with great grandson’s quilt, except I did work in the color blue .......

Great Grandson’s Quilt

...... because they want their children to not be pushed at birth to a specific gender, I couldn’t resist going with little girl colors when I saw a Princess panel, which I'm paring up with fabrics that seem to go well.

Barring any unforeseen circumstances, this upcoming week looks to be free of errands necessitating I run all over several towns. Consequently, I may attend Activity Director’s 11:00 – 1:00 session on Tuesday — which I see on the calendar is a class, "Tips on saving with entertainment, followed by a fun game of bingo".

Those are two hours I’d much prefer devoting to my crafting projects but I had a thought — wouldn’t it be fun to set a mouse trap, be in the Community Room if Meat Man continues his newly acquired pattern of coming in on Tuesdays to continue his pursuit of Homegirl and be faced with the two of us girls together.

To see the look on the face of that two-timer … three-timer if he actually does have a girlfriend or is engaged, would be worth giving up two hours of my free time, don’t you think?

Of course, I’ll tell Homegirl what my motive for being there is about and ask how she wants to play it if he does show up.

Hopefully he won’t disappoint, ruin our fun by not showing up.

Randy Rides Again

Other than this, today looks to be the first free day I’ve had all week — no errands to run, no commitments. I can stay indoors, work on crafts, catch up on recorded TV programs.

Bliss.

Junk in the Trunk

Today started off with a telephone call from Talker.

"Be careful heading out this morning. There’s a man sleeping in a corner by the dumpster".

It was just yesterday when I saw an unhoused woman living on the sidewalk across the street from the complex and thought to myself there but for the Grace of God go I and realized that, ever since the City chased the unhoused from their campsite on the hill where the Hilltop Restaurant used to be, that I was seeing more and more setting up tents, cots, living on the sidewalk along the main thoroughfare, getting closer and closer to surrounding the complex.

Now they’re inside.

I'd already concluded someone was sleeping in the parking area, because a resident found men’s belongings piled on top of the car belonging to my downstairs neighbor — let’s call downstairs neighbor Cra Cra, and human feces was spotted nearby.

As Talker and I were discussing what she’d seen, what I’d previously heard, in the background of the call I could hear my Little Stalker pestering Talker, "Let me talk to her. I want to talk to her".

They were in the car, on their way to the medical center to get Stalker's cast cut off.

"You’ll see her at bingo", I heard Talker say.

Oh, great, thought I. What would really make my day would be if if R, who hates children and the Black Witch — the woman who tried to bully me but hasn’t been back to bingo since I told her I was going to put a curse on her, all showed up today.

Guess what?

Bingo was a trifecta … all showed up.

Surprise, surprise, everyone behaved.

Today is June 23, 2023. Maybe two 23's is magical.

Little Stalker gave me a hug, which oddly was followed by a sharp thump thump thump pain in my forehead, that I took as the beginning of a headache. The pain subsided when Little Stalker returned to sit at the table with grandma Talker and Talker’s new BFF.

There was a WOW moment when instead of getting up, announcing to the room "There’s a child in here, so I’m leaving!", R instead called Little Stalker over to her table, gave her a hug.

There was one awkward moment when, in the middle of a game, Hell on Wheels look accusingly at the table next to her and shouted, "STOP HUMMING!"

Folks at that table pointed to Little Stalker and said, "It’s the baby", whereupon HOW calmed down and Little Stalker kept humming whatever song was going through her head that had so disturbed HOW.

BTW, I once again beat HOW to my preferred seat, but learned I hadn’t needed to rush. Her wheelchair needs repair, is not currently operational on its own. She had to wait until someone walked over to her unit and pushed the chair to the room.

The Black Witch sat on the opposite side of the room, away from me and word is she’s moving out end of month to go live with her daughter.

WOO HOO!

So all in all, it’s been a good day, a lucky day — Black Witch is moving, HOW couldn't race me to the seat, and I won Game 3.

While at bingo, I got an update on Meat Man who, just days ago, was blowing kisses at me.

Homegirl tells me that on Tuesday, she was in the Community Room with Red Light and others attending Activity Director’s craft session when in walks Meat Man.

My first reaction was, "WHAT!? He never comes to the room on a craft day. Girl, he is after you".

"Well, I ignored him".

So, what Meat Man did was to sit down and engage Red Light in conversation.

Red Light had never seen him before, thought him "charming" (he absolutely can be) had no idea it was the scoundrel that had tried to date me, has been drooling all over Homegirl and to me, what he was doing was his way of messing with Homegirl in a manner where she can't actually say he's done anything, give her reason to complain or file for a restraining order.

A kind of gaslighting?

I'm not doing what you think I'm doing kinda thing?

Though Homegirl continued to ignore him, Meat Man eventually turned his attention to her, said something to the effect that she should be nicer, friendlier because, after all, "I'm engaged".

Last time he was inferring her misunderstanding his intent with, "You know I have a girlfriend". Now it's "I'm engaged".

I told Homegirl that I really like Meat Man, he’s funny, entertaining, and I'm way ahead of him — know who he is, what he's about, and the type he is loves when you're mean, dismissal, that the meaner you are to him, the more he’s seeing her as a challenge with no plans to stop until he wins the game.

She replied with words involving weapons and violence against Meat Man.

From the look on her face when she said what she said, I think Meat Man is pushing the wrong buttons, playing with fire.

Inasmuch as Meat Man approaches me way different, and better, than how he approaches Homegirl, I can only attribute his lunacy to the junk in her trunk — some guys lose their minds over brick houses — sistas with big boobs, wide hips, firm rounded behind.

Knock Knock

She’s baaack.

As I pulled into my parking space, returning from this morning’s workout, I saw Talker had just pulled in, was removing stuff from her front passenger side and that my Little Stalker was peeking from around the rear of Talker’s car, watching me pull in.

She couldn’t jump out and surprise or scare me — like the time she once did when she knocked then hid in a corner on the porch, because I’d already seen her, said "I see you", so she ran over, gave me a hug and asked "Can I come to your house?".

Changing the conversation, I offered "I don’t have any treats for you. I didn’t know you were going to be here".

It was then I noticed the cast on her arm.

"Broken" said Talker.

Visiting San Diego Wild Animal Park with family, Talker included, she fell. Noone felt anything serious happened, other than a little boo boo, until Little Stalker said, "I think I broke it", whereupon park medics were summoned.

There was a big to-do after that and though the park was not at fault or blamed for a child tripping over her own feet, tickets were refunded, parking fees were refunded, and Little Stalker was given a $50 toy.

At the end of Talker’s recounting the broken arm story, Little Stalker once again asked, "Can I come to your house" but this time gave me the business with an imploring look and "Can I come to your house … Pleease!?".

"No honey. I’ve got things to do".

If Little Stalker is going to be here for any length of time — to the end of the week and bingo day, I’m guessing there’s no way grandma is going to keep her from knock knock knocking on my door.

Inasmuch as I have no treats on hand, I may have to share my See’s chocolates with her, LOL.

Not too long ago, a commentor — who shall remain nameless, but you know who you are and I know who are, came for me with "Children are good at knowing when someone doesn’t like them. You’re a good faker".

I deleted the comment because I can and because it was judgmental bullshit, but I do agree that children and animals are good at ferreting out what's below the surface.

Which should have been commenter's first clue that perhaps something might be wrong with the commenter herself, rather than with me.

Consequently, inasmuch as my Little Stalker is always happy to see me, hugs me, wants to spend time with me — even though I’ve made no bones about not wanting a man, woman, child, neighbor knocking at my door bothering me, Little Stalker is evidently a better judge. Senses what commenter, with her surface understanding, lack of depth and judgmental state of being can sense.

On tap for remainder of day is trying out a no-rice sushi recipe.

Real Plumber, Part 2 AND BREAKING NEWS

Assistant Maintenance Guy kept his word and installed a new faucet this afternoon.

No more drip drip drip of the kitchen sink leaking.

I’d just returned from running errands all over town — gassing up the jeep, car wash, medical center for BP check (118/57), two stores in the mall to pick up anolon cookware to replace my beat-up pot and skillet, See’s Candy Store for a treat, craft store for fabric, Whew!!! ….. when there was his knock on the door.

"Parts came in yesterday but, if you’re busy, I can come back tomorrow".

"Nope. Let’s get er done", said I.

Real Plumber that he is — or as near to as they have on staff, it took a bit of time, but he did a good thorough job. A job Head Maintenance Guy would never have achieved because it would have been too much work for him.

Had I not requested a "real plumber", HMG would have returned over and over and over, tightened a nut here, a bolt there, and the leak would have continued forever.

After the job was done, as he packed up to go, he apologized for it taking so long.

"Not a problem" said I, "But I bet the complex water bill is going to go way down, because the leak had been going on for so long".

He laughed and said, "It won't make a difference. We've got worse problems going on".

Don't I know it since, in talking recently with the two residents previously mentioned with maintenance issues, I'd learned they're getting nowhere.

Upstairs Lady — the resident with the bad legs, said her two-months ago workorder about the handle falling off her oven door has still not been addressed.

She tried gluing the handle back on, it held for a bit, but it's once again handle less.

Di — the resident that had that problem with Meat Man’s son, reported moldy crud in her refrigerator even more months ago.

She says both Head Maintenance Guy AND Assistant Maintenance Guy checked it out, told her to disinfect the refrigerator with bleach.

She did so, but mold quickly reappeared on the inside walls, whereupon the guys told her to "not place food near the wall".

Seriously.

They told her to push refrigerated foods away from the walls, towards the middle of the shelf.

After she told me that, I remembered she had brought food to bingo back in March — chili and corn muffins.

Since no one reported a trip to the hospital shortly after, I guess the residents who ate freely of that are immune to mold.

In a sane world, a stove for Upstairs Lady and a refrigerator for Di would have taken precedence over repainting the patio railings and repaving the bottom of the jacuzzi, but management only cares about curb appeal, not what corporate and other outsiders can't see.

If I were Di, I’d buy my own refrigerator and tell management to cart that death machine away.

While at See’s, for chocolate to make more S’mores, I saw they’ve added color to their display.

This new limited-time treat is called "Birthday Cake", and is in honor of the founder Mary See’s birthday — and no, she’s not here to enjoy the honor as she passed away in 1939.

They do look like cute little birthday cakes.

My sensitive gut will only let me get away with Almond Buds and Milk Walnuts, so I can’t tell you what they taste like, but they must be amazing because I saw online where one woman said she "cried" when her store ran out and she couldn’t find anywhere else.

Last news of the day is, returning from running errands, retrieving packages from the jeep, a car pulled up behind mine.

It was Meat Man, who proceeded to blow kisses at me.

He is such a bad boy AND so funny that I couldn’t help but to burst out laughing. "You are just full of it" said I, through laughter. He smiled and proceeded to drive out of the complex.

BREAKING NEWS

Say It With Your Chest

Trainer accused me of trying to get him cancelled — always coming in with edgy messages on my chest, like the anti-No. 45 shirt, a Straight Outta Compton shirt, and now Blackity Black.

Wait until he sees the "Drag Is Not a Crime" tee, I plan to make and wear at Long Beach Pride — that is if I decide I have the energy to attend the 2-day festival and parade.

Trainer himself was kinda sorta paying homage to Juneteenth with a tat commemorating the birth of his daughter, which date happens to coincide with the now federal holiday.

Google went all out with raised fists marching across the home screen and confetti drops, which led to the most celebrating I did today, which was to entertain myself by clicking on the flag icon, watch the confetti drop over and over and over.

Doesn’t take much to captivate me.

Other than that, it’s just another Monday as I contemplate if I really need to get the car serviced on Thursday.

According to the manual, regular service should be every 10,000 miles BUT inasmuch as I’m driving just a little over 2,000 miles per year, I’m guessing it’s best to get service based on an annual basis regardless of miles.

Sitting in the dealer’s waiting room is a pain no matter how I look at it, but at least it will give me down time to get back to the Walter Mosley’s book I’ve not yet had time to finish, exciting a read though it is.

If the wait is long, I might finish Every Man’s a King and start on my next read — The In-Between (unforgettable encounters during life’s final moments by Hadley Viahos, RN).

Three Day Weekend?

Happy Father’s Day to all you dads out there AND dads/moms who did double duty — raised children without partners.

This is a three-day weekend for management, because Monday is a federal Holiday — Juneteenth. However, for moi, tomorrow will be business as usual because Monday is a regular workout day.

There is a celebration tomorrow at the University but I’ve not the energy to workout then attend the festival. Besides, it doesn’t look very interesting.

Even though the list of activities includes Food (I can't eat), Fun, Kid Zone, they completely lost me at Seminars and Gospel Hour.

There are festivities within driving distance, but again, no energy.

I’ve been experiencing an energy drain since Friday — a sign there’s a disturbance in the family force, most assuredly Twin 2, which is where the drains have been coming from for quite some time.

Nothing to be done but hope for the best for her — Divine right action and ride the waves.

Other than that, not much going on around here except crafting.

Insofar as residents, the only one I’ve run into the few times I've gone out to toss trash or pick up mail, was Head Maintenance Guy returning from an outing with his wife on Saturday.

He actually smiled and said "Hello, Shirley", which was surprising because it was the first time he ever said my name.

I got the distinct impression he is totally unaware of the "real plumber" comment.

He’s not clever enough to fake it — come across as agreeable while fuming inside, so I can only assume he’s completely clueless as to how I and other residents feel about his skill level.

It must be nice to be clueless.

There have been times when I’ve envied those who travel through life at a surface level, people that don’t feel, sense, know, empath; people that go through life all friggin la de friggin da like, just totally clueless.

So, anyway, HMG is the only one I saw in person, but I did see Red Light playing poor me on facebook again.

You may remember, back in March, when she had that passive aggressive meltdown — posted a host of poor me, people are so mean cryptic messages.

Well, on Saturday, she posted a poor me, I’m so bored plea.

She has everyone’s telephone number, could have easily called those in her posse, asked if they wanted to get together, but nooooo. She wanted the world to witness her pity plea.

I'd be bored too if I was as spoiled as she, didn't do anything but sit on my behind and issue orders … or try to, like "send me the photos".

For some reason, she doesn't have to lift a finger for anything, not even write a check because the County pays her rent. Her daughter is like her indentured servant — here every day, cooking, cleaning, doing Red Light’s laundry, helping her set up for bingo.

We have residents on walkers and wheelchairs who manage to do their own laundry. The resident with the problem legs — the one who propells herself from here to there by leaning left then right, does her own laundry and here Red Light is being waited on like a queen.

Red Light seems to get around extremely well when she's out gathering intel (gossiping) and running the bingo games — both of which I appreciate, but I'm just saying.

No idea if she ever got out to "do something", but I didn’t see any responses to her plea.

So, anyway, even though tomorrow is just another Monday for me, it being Black Independence Day is an opportunity to wear that Blackity Black Black shirt.

Indictment Day, Round Two

I love when I wake up and No. 45 is being indicted ........ again but, with 37 Felony counts and possibly more indictments and court cases coming up, I'm gonna need to get a bigger coffee mug.

Had this been a workout day, I would have called Trainer and cancelled, so I could kick back with popcorn, coffee — like Indictment Day No. 1, enjoy the televised show. Unfortunately, I had a dental cleaning appointment, but I did record the event for later viewing.

So far so good with the new dental office. I like the dentist and, even though I had a different hygienist this morning, I’ve liked them as well.

However, that doesn’t mean I like going to the dentist any more than Moving with Mitchell’s kid brother El Hermanito.

So, when it was suggested I schedule cleanings every three months, instead of six, it was a definite NO.

The reason for suggesting such a thing being I had accumulated a lot of plaque in the last six months. That people who accumulate a lot of plaque run the risk of gums being pulled back and end up with that "long in the tooth" look when they get older — in their 60’s/70’s.

"Well, since I’m already 79, I don’t think I need to worry about that", said I.

My next appointment is scheduled for six months, but she did suggest I not only continue with the electric brush, flossing, but massage the gums with a regular tooth brush and purchase an interproximal brush to further clean between the teeth.

Good Lord! So much high maintenance, so much work. It's annoying.

Fool Me Once

I woke up to rain. This on the last day of the Upland’s Lemon Festival.

When I first moved to the Inland Empire area, which would have been in 2003. I lived in Upland. So, of course, I went to the Lemon Festival, which was in it’s infancy — only a few years in at that time.

What a disappointment.

Downtown Upland is small, cramped, which made parking hard to find. Insofar as entertainment, there was one stage where I recall a young kid doing a credible Michael Jackson performance.

I could eat what I wanted back then, so was looking forward to all kinds of lemon concoctions to try.

There were none.

In fact, after seeing the lemon pie booth had pies with Ralph’s Market stickers on the box, I left and haven’t attended since.

Of course now, going by what I saw on the news Friday, the Lemon Festival is huge, so I was tempted on Saturday to drive over, see what it’s now all about.

Just the fact that the event was so heavily pubicized on the news could mean it’s a really fun place to go OR they needed the exposure on the news to get folks to come.

Not willing to chance it — under the theory of Fool Me Once, especially since parking would still be bad and I now can’t eat lemon concoctions … if they had any this time around, I decided to stay home, do laundry, work on craft projects.

Giving Red Light the benefit of the doubt — taking into consideration she might not know how to capture photos direct from the website, I yesterday sent her the following message.

I think I worded it to where she could reply a simple yes, I got them or no, how do I do that.

She replied neither. In fact, she did not reply at all.

Alrighty then.

Case closed.

I can only conclude she’s fuming (yes, I’m smiling) and only wanted one thing, that was for ME to obey.

Well, like my mother used to say to us kids when we expressed a want, "People in hell want ice water, but they don’t get it".

She’s probably not as pissed at the fact I did not comply as she is that I had the audacity to question the why/what — why she needed the photos, what she did with them.

Flame on girlie, flame on.

I’m going to make a prediction … After Red Light calms her arse down she’ll probably feel too embarrassed or that she’s put herself in a position where she’ll be reluctant to ask me to make flyers for her July 4 event. She’ll ask someone else to ask me because, based on what I’ve observed in other instances where she’s overstepped or lost a friend, that’s how she rolls. She backs up and hides behind someone else ... asks them to ask so and so such and such.

Manipulative much?

THIS

Guess I spoke too soon when I yesterday blogged that Red Light had lost interest in bugging me for photos because, as I was dressing for this morning’s workout, I received this.

I should have changed that last part from "What do you do with them when I send to you" to "Why do you need me to do that?", but I didn't take time to think my reply through.

Receiving no immediate response, as I continued to dress, I began smiling.

Why do I always do that (smile) when I know I’ve called someone on their bull crap and sense their emotional upset?

It’s kind of sadistic of me, and I could almost see Red Light squirming around, trying to come up with a good reason for why she needed the photos.

I guess she’s still trying to come up with an answer because, after this morning’s workout, I changed clothes, headed for bingo in the Community Room, arriving once again before Hell on Wheels could claim my preferred seat.

Red Light said nothing about the message she’d sent, nor reply in person, did not even remind me to send the photos I was taking at the time. So, unless and until she comes up with a good reason, she won’t be getting the photos from last week she requested, nor will she get the ones I took today.

Probably not even if she does manufacture a reason, as she can get what she wants from the website.

Stay tuned for the next installment of Boots and Braids pissing folks off where viewers learn if Red Light ever responded, how she responded, how close Red Light is to getting on Shirley's last nerve and being told to take and post the photos her damn self.

Today was my lucky day, as I won a game early on and chose a wooden backscratcher.

What made me choose that item from the prize table was, night before last, as I got in bed, my back began to itch. I couldn’t reach the spot that itched with my hand, so I reached over, got the knife I keep on the nightstand for protection, scratched my back with it while hoping I didn’t accidentally stab myself.

I took my button jar but didn't have to use buttons today because one of the Baker's daughters, here on vacation from Florida, attended the last bingo, saw we almost ran out of supplies and left us a gift before she returned to DeSantis country — two bags of chips she ordered off Amazon.

Heading back to my unit after bingo, I stopped by the mail center and ran into the guy that moved into the bad energy unit.

"How are things going. How do you like living here?" asked I.

"It's very quiet", said he.

Quiet is good. Means items inside are not levitating on their own or, like I last said, maybe he's not yet noticed.

A Real Plumber

I think I ruined Head Maintenance Guy’s day. I haven’t actually seen him but, because I empath, I can feel he’s pissed off.

What’s worse …. every time I feel his upset, I smile.

What happened was, I put in a workorder yesterday for that leaky kitchen faucet and bathroom sink that HMG had quickly macgyvered up and pronounced "fixed".

What HMG is pissed over is the fact that, in the workorder, I asked for a "real plumber".

I submitted the work order at 1:30 yesterday and inasmuch as a resident recently complained to me there’d been no action on a workorder she’d submitted almost a month ago, I wasn’t holding my breath.

Color me surprised at a knock on the door around 2:00 today. It was Assistant Maintenance Guy.

I greeted him with, "So, you’re the real plumber I requested?"

"I’m A plumber", said he with a slight grin, which tells me the wording on that workorder was discussed and he'd gotten a kick out of it.

"Good, because I’ve had it with your boy", said I.

Keep in mind, the AMG is older than the HMG.

It makes no sense, but the inept HMG is AMG's boss, so my referring to HMG as AMG’s "boy" is a further insult.

Everyone in the office is super careful about what they say, because they want to keep their jobs, so he probably won’t tell HMG I referred to him as "boy", but I’m sure AMG gets that us residents don’t think too highly of his boss and probably enjoyed the dig.

So, anyway, he solved the issue with the bathroom sink and put in an order for a new kitchen fixture, as the old one is falling apart said he.

That fixture is yet another, in a long line of cheapies that have since fallen apart and had to be replaced when management did that so-called $3.2 million in renovations.

The refrigerator has been replaced, the stove has been replaced, and may have to be replaced again as I can tell the timing thing is about to go out on the oven.

So, anyway, HMG and I have had issues in the past that had him cutting his eyes at me when we passed each other out and about.

Over the years, it’s been two steps forward as we’d gotten to the point where we speak to each other but my asking for a "real plumber" is sure to send us two steps back.

Fine by me.

BTW, Red Light never did ask me to forward photos from the Memorial Day BBQ or last week’s bingo, thereby robbing me of the opportunity to say "no" and ask why she needed them, but her no longer requesting tells me she didn’t do anything with those she previously bugged me for, didn’t need them, it was just a power play.

Not Even Close

Rough start to the day.

Waking up with the usual run through my head of what today’s plan was to be, I couldn’t figure out which day of the week this was.

I recalled yesterday was a workout day, so thought today might be Saturday. But then, I couldn’t remember viewing Friday Night Mystery last night.

Maybe I just forgot yesterday was Friday and missed viewing the show, thought I, ergo today must be Saturday, the night I watch Midsomer Murders.

But then I remembered the last thing I watched last night was a baking show, and the baking show doesn’t air on Friday.

Now thoroughly confused as to which day of the week this was, I got out of bed, turned on the TV, which the guide indicated today was Tuesday.

Good Grief!, I wasn’t even close. This week has barely started.

Oh well, onward and upwards.

Once I figured out this was a free day — no place I must go, nothing I had to do, I once again tackled the printer issues.

Took a little while but, after a few uninstall, reboot, install, reboot, uninstall, reboot, install, reboot the Smart app finally stop trying to connect to the old printer I’d deleted, began communicating with the new one, and the print, copy, scan functions finally began operating as they should.

Add tech support to my list of skills.

Checking on the patio plants, I see no signs of tomatoes or hot peppers, but decided to farm the bigger radishes to make room for the others in the pot to have room grow.

I’d planned for zucchini salad for lunch, would have included my two tiny radishes, but decided on a S’more and coffee for lunch instead.

S’mores are addictive.

While sitting on the couch, enjoying lunch, I saw a resident I early on called Loud Mouth in the blog, but then began referring to her by the name residents refer to her as — Big Linda.

She was being walked around by a caregiver.

So it’s come to that, thought I, a caregiver.

Long time readers may recall Big Linda as one of three bullies we had/have on the property. The other two being Little Linda (still here) and Ruthie (still here and almost made me lose it in bingo last week when she wouldn’t stop making rude and bullying comments).

Big Linda hasn’t been an issue around here since just before the Pandemic, when she fell, broke her back. Today was actually the first time I’ve seen her since her accident, learned she was still living here, still alive as no one ever speaks of her.

Prior to the accident slowing her down, she tried to drill sergeant everyone in and around the complex. Retired military, she was always yelling at folks as to what they could and could not do, attending events in the Community Room only to "hush" people because she must have thought the room should be run as a library and wanted quiet.

Sometimes, she’d just sit there and put her fingers in her ears to indicate how displeased she was with others talking.

In the process of trying to control everyone and everything, she’d made so many enemies in the complex that residents would spit on her car. The spitting got to be so bad that she found it necessary set up a camera facing the car, then posted a note to the car window … "Do not spit on this car. You are being watched".

It didn’t help her likeability when she ingratiated herself with that horrible terrible Nurse Ratched manager by acting as her Snitch.

When it became known Big Linda was a snitch, I recall saying it wouldn’t get her far because the devil eventually turns on its own minions. So it didn’t surprise me in the least when she went to her buddy Nurse Ratched for some issue she was having with Older Sister thinking that, because she was Ratched’s snitch, she’d have the upper hand. Instead, Ratched yelled "I’m too busy, don’t bother me with that!". Whereupon Big Linda came out of the office area whinning "There’s just no communication! They don’t communicate to each other, and they don’t communicate with us!"

Boo Hoo!

So, anyway, her little reign of terror is now a distant memory.

I feel for her caregiver. Working with Big Linda can’t be easy or fun. That is, unless the injury and so much time alone in her unit has given her time to reflect, changed her into a nicer human.

Talker has "postponed" her move to San Diego.

The two sisters — Big Sister and Little Sister have moved out under mysterious circumstances, saying each is going to live with a different relative.

I don’t see that working out, so maybe they’ll see it’s better with the two of them living together, helping each other, and move back.

Casino Lady, who was living with her sister, lost her sister a few weeks ago to a heart condition but, so far as I know, is showing no signs of leaving the complex.

The guy that moved into the bad energy unit hasn’t packed up and fled yet, so I guess everything is A-Okay inside or he’s just totally clueless to what others might recognize as strange.

That can happen. Some people are just immune, can't see what's happening right in front of their face, and he does appear to be kind of a geeky little fellow.

However, as I aways say .... time will tell.