Seismic Activity

Feeling slight rumblings and swaying of the building yesterday and this morning, I thought perhaps I was imagining it.

That is until, returning from this morning’s workout, I ran into the resident who occupies the unit beneath Next Door Neighbor and asked if she’d been feeling seismic activity.

She had, so next I logged onto the earthquake tracker.

"San Bernardino has had (M1.5 or greater) 2 earthquakes in the past 24 hours; 9 earthquakes in the past 7 days; 41 earthquakes in the past 30 days; 507 earthquakes in the past 365 days".

Who knew.

So long as the rumblings and sways are limited to the earth letting off steam at 1.5, I think we’re good.

I also asked that same neighbor if she’d yet met our new neighbor (TinTin).

She had not but said, that because her unit is directly across from TinTin’s, she has been privy to who goes in/out and they all "Look rough".

Feeling the same vibes/red flags as I, she's not planning on introducing herself, said she's instead told herself, "I’ll just stay away from whatever that is".

I don’t always lock my door when I head down for a quick drop off to the dumpster, but now I will.

No news as to if and when the Community Room reopens. Perhaps Complex Manager is waiting to make certain the painted over crack in the ceiling is going to hold.

With the continuous rumblings and swaying, maybe I'll get lucky and it will all comes tumbling down, closing the room for months.

Checking sporadically on the nest in the naked tree, I’m beginning to think it’s an old abandoned nest, perhaps from when the tree was covered in leaves. Because, after all, why build out in the open like that.

I also, a few days ago, ran into the little guy that moved into the bad energy unit — upstairs, across the quad, over Red Light. He appears to be thriving.

He was carrying a rather large TV from his car to his unit when our paths crossed.

Strong little guy. Maybe I should name him Mighty Mouse.

"Getting ready for the big game?" asked I.

"No. My TV broke, had a crack in the screen. I had to buy a new one because they said I didn’t purchase a warranty".

Whaaaat?!!!

"Where’d you buy the first one from?"

He named a well-known retailer that shall remain nameless here on the blog, because I don’t want to get sued.

I purchased a standing mixer from that retailer, which failed after one use. I’d not purchased a warranty and had no problem returning, getting money back. So why he couldn’t return a TV with a broken screen without a warranty was odd.

Once bitten, twice shy, so no longer trusting this retailer, I purchased a mixer from a different source. I also later learned some of what is sold by that retailer is actually from a manufacturer that has been accused of defrauding the public, and probably the retailer, by pawning off rebuilt as new.

So, though Mighty Mouse appears to be physically thriving in that unit, he seems to be losing some of his marbles, because after being denied recompense on the first TV, when I asked from where he’d purchased the new TV, he named that same retailer, but said "This time I bought a warranty".

Good luck with getting them to honor that warranty if anything goes wrong.

I Got Nothing

Nother other than having spent the entire weekend indoors, catching up on recorded TV programs, working on that never ending needlepoint project, and watching my new superpower wane as it didn’t bring in any lottery winnings.

Heading to this morning’s workout, I saw our Outside Neighbor was no longer occupying space on the sidewalk. She’s moved on.

Sneaking a peek into the Community Room after this morning’s workout, I saw all the furniture had been moved to the far side of the room but, other than that, the room looked sparkling clean, no crack in the ceiling, no sign of earthquake damage elsewhere in the room.

However, there was the strong smell of paint.

From that, one can assume last week’s earthquake caused the previous earthquake crack in the ceiling to reopen, and management has once again painted over it.

I hope that doesn’t mean the room will reopen in time for the next scheduled bingo, Friday, February 9, because that’s too soon for me to get out of the responsibility by just fading away, being forgotten.

I’ll probably have to put on my big girl panties and just say count me out.

Be Careful What You Wish For, Part 2

I yearned for more time, and the cable box was mysteriously turned off, resulting in no TV for an entire day.

A few days ago, I was telling Trainer how I sometimes wish the Community Manager would tell us we can no longer have bingo, so I can get out of the responsibility of having to show up to do the photos and manage the residents’ webpage.

I went so far as to tell Trainer, I know residents will be upset should that happen, I’d be completely disingenuous on the surface — pretend to be upset as well but rejoicing inside.

Red Light called last night to say Manager has deemed the Community Room "unsafe due to earthquake damage".

The 3.4 quake we had in 2021 left a long crack in the ceiling, which I think was just painted over. So, having not seen what damage this 4.4 caused, I can only assume the crack has widened or parts of the ceiling have come down.

At any rate, the room has been declared unsafe, today's bingo cancelled for now and for who knows how long in the future.

I am not a good liar, so it was difficult to keep the joy out of my voice when commiserating with Red Light.

She’s hoping management doesn’t drag their heels on getting repairs made, wants the room up and running again soon.

I’m hoping the opposite — drag those heels long enough for residents to forget about me, not be surprised if I don’t return.

I’m not so vain as to think my wishful thinking brought about the cable box snafu and an earthquake, but you have to admit it is odd.

Just in case my thoughts are in some kind of 4th dimensional pocket where thoughts become reality, I’d better focus on being the big winner on the $1.64 million Powerball or $285 million Mega or $18 million SuperLotto or all three.

I’m not greedy, I’ll share.

And now this ……

Nesting and Holy Heck

The cable technician arrived at 11:16 this morning.

"What seems to be the problem?", asked he.

I picked up the remote, turned the TV on, showed him how the cable box was not connecting to its source.

I then handed him the remote and, as soon as it touched his hand, the TV came on.

"What did you just do?"

"Turned the box on. It was off".

So that was embarrassing.

As to how it got turned off in the first place is a mystery. Maybe I hit a wrong button when turning the TV off the previous night.

He showed me how to tell when the box is off, how to turn it back on, asked if I wanted him to show me anything else; at which time I thought about asking him to show me how to get to Netflix on the TV, so I won’t have to watch on the phone, but thought I’d better leave well enough alone. Stick to the basics and not confuse myself further.

There’s just too much technology.

Heading out later to pick up mail, I found the front drive full of rescue vehicles — not one, but two fire trucks and an ambulance.

The ambulance was loading up the gurney, but no one was on it.

Turned out, they were here because a resident had fallen in the office area.

Two fire trucks AND an ambulance seemed overkill for a fall, and proved to be so because, as I approached the mail center, the gentleman who’d fallen was being escorted back to his unit by Head Maintenance Guy.

He looked fine and, in fact, told HMG that he could make it to his unit on his own from there.

Maybe he was embarrassed by all the hoopla.

While chatting with others there to pick up mail, my attention was drawn to a naked tree.

I've never seen it like this before. It's lost all its leaves overnight, but looks quite beautiful this way.

One of the guys pointed out a bird building a nest on a bare branch.

The bird flew away before I could capture a photo of it tending the nest, so I’ll be checking back from time to time to see how the nest goes, if/when any babies appear.

Seeing flyovers around my patio lately, I figured it was nearing that time again when I’d have to chase birds away from nesting in the eves over the patio door.

There was all that drama last year, when I had to keep chasing birds off, telling them not to build and that one couple began building and settling in when I wasn’t looking, then got upset when I blocked off the entrance.

Having since purchased holographic scare tape, I’m ready for them this year.

So, that was my day — the TV got fixed, I finished another photo book for the family ...

Watch Me Grow No. 4

.... and, when I settled in to watch TV a little while ago, all hell broke lose.

The couch began shaking up/down, dishes and other items began rattling and the entire building felt like it was being lifted off the ground, then dropped.

It was the mother of all earthquakes we’ve had to date — a 4.4 @ 7:43 pm centered a mile away in Fontana.

Nothing broke, but one more like this and the building is coming down.

Now I know why it was, just last week, I began rethinking what to save in case of emergency. I'd decided to grab important papers, the cellphone, as many photo books as possible and my makeup bag, of course. Figured anything else was unimportant, could be purchased again.

Besides, I keep wanting to downsize, go minimalist living. I'd like it not to happen by way of a disaster, but what will be is what will be.

I can feel something big is coming. In fact, I'm hearing a rumbling, and small shakes, as I'm typing this. Aftershocks?

Be Careful What You Wish For

I didn’t exactly wish, it was more like I’ve been craving more time. Time enough in a day to do all that I do — cooking, cleaning, working out, Creative Memory scrapbooking, Needlepoint, blogging, TikTok, Pokémon GO, Candy Crush. All those things and more, with time left over to read, as books are piling up.

Author Walter Mosley is coming out with a new installment of the Easy Rawlings series, which I’ve already preordered, so I do need to finish one or two of these books.

I’d have preferred more time would come in the form of days miraculously becoming longer. Instead, it's come as waking up this morning to the cable box malfunctioning. It won’t connect to the source, says I need Internet to view TV, which I do have internet because here I am blogging over the Internet.

So, anyway, a call to the provider for a technician to come out turned into the same old same old of them trying to get me to fix it myself … questions, answers, disconnect this, wait, reconnect that, so on and so forth.

All I wanted was a technician, so when questions continued, and it got to "Can you tell me which HDMI channel you are on" is when I had to use my tried-and-true ace — the Age Card.

Playing the helpless little old lady, I replied, "No, I can't. I’m 80 years old. Hardly know which planet I’m on. Can you please just set up someone to come out".

Worked, like a charm ... always does.

Questions and instructions ceased instantly.

Technician will be arriving between 11 and 12 tomorrow, which means I’ll have to give up tomorrow’s workout, but oh well. Getting the cable box up and running trumps working out.

Heading outside to pick up mail, over the wall I could see flashing lights in the area where our Outside Neighbor has been residing last few days.

I suspect it’s one of those trucks the cops show up with to haul away property belonging to the unhoused in order to get them out of the area, but since they can’t do that for the time being (which I doubt the person in the tent knows) maybe it was just an intimidation tactic or maybe, when the truck initially pulled to the curb to haul what looked like junk away, the driver hadn't initially realized there was a person inside.

At any rate, no cops showed up, I never saw the driver exit the truck, and the person in the tent didn’t seem perturbed. The truck eventually drove away.

Talking to the guy standing in the smoking section, while we both watched the goings on, without thinking he did what I assume he always does ... pulled out a cigarette, put it to his lips. Except, it was a joint.

As he went to fire up, I got ready to surreptitiously snap a photo, but he seemed to suddenly realize I wasn't of the usual gather on the lawn for a smoke type and quickly pulled it away from his lips, tried to hide it between his fingers. So, I left so the guy could enjoy his smoke.

Before he pulled out his smoke however, he'd informed me the occupant of the tent is a female.

He further said people driving by have been pulling over to the curb, dropping off containers with food, which I said was nice and that I'd thought about taking food and a warm blanket out myself, but didn't because one never knows what kind of reception one will get these days, how good deeds go bad, and one gets hurt.

He said something about my having done so would have been like feeding a cat, caused it to hang around, come back.

I dunno.

Somebody has got to do something, and it was the second time in two weeks that my heart told me to be that somebody, but my head said don't be stupid.

The other incident was when I picked up photographs from the photo lab, found someone else's photos mixed in with mine.

I didn't want to just toss them in the trash so, when I saw there was a telephone number on the summary sheet, I picked up the phone to call, see if the person wanted mailed to them.

But then, my head said I'd end up with a headache. That the person would probably think it was some kind of trick, a scam, don't get involved. So, I didn't complete the call.

My heart wouldn't let me toss the photos in the trash, so I instead drove back to the photo lab, turned the photos over knowing full well they are not going to call the person, will themselves toss in the trash but better they than I, my hands are clean.

It's a sad commentary on life when one has to harden one's heart and listen to one's head.

The guy hiding the joint also said that one day, when a group of the smokers were out on the lawn, the woman in the tent came out, walked back to the wall, and there in plain view, pulled down her pants, squatted, and did a No. 2.

Ewwwwwww.

He also pointed out areas where people have been parked, living in campers for weeks.

At least they have shelter.

Even with no TV eating up the hours, time seems to be slipping away without my having picked up one book to finish reading, and tonight will be watching the last two episodes of Fool Me Once on the phone.

The Netflix series is not as slow as I thought it would be, and nowhere near as predictable as it first seemed. So full of red herrings that I'm completely clueless as to who, what, why, but soon to find out.

A Frosty Day in the Neighborhood

It rained all night again, but I woke up to frost on the window, which I used as a canvas.

Fortunately, the rain paused just long enough for me to complete my morning ritual and then take video showing changes I spotted along the painted rock path, as I headed out for the Pain Cave.

Driving out of the complex gate, I saw we now have an outside neighbor.

Those that have no sympathy for how difficult it must be to be unhoused, living on the streets, and like to "call it in" are going to have a shit fit because just last week "Federal Judge Terry Hatter Jr. granted a preliminary injunction barring the city of San Bernardino from removing or displacing unhoused residents".

The cops no longer have the right to, in response to complaints, tell them to move along.

I suppose that is unless the build is on private property — which it is not. It’s outside the property line by the bus stop, which is still too close for the residents who are likely to be upset.

This Friday is bingo. If anything is said about our new outside neighbor, I’m going to keep my mouth shut because people around here are remarkably uninformed about what goes on in the world outside the complex, would not believe me if I told them of the judge’s order, and it's just too frustrating to try to have a conversation with clueless individuals.

It still boggles my mind that no one, other than Homegirl, knew of the Alabama Boat Dock/Folding Chair uprising. And not just these old folks. One of Trainer's elite fighters, a girl in her mid 20's, was clueless to that significant event, could have cared less when Trainer and I tried to explain the significance of it.

In her case, I guess it's because she, like the old folks, live in their own world. Her world happened to be limited to martial arts.

So, anyway, the plan for today was to use the newly acquired Thai dried chilies in crockpot chili but, stopping at the market after this morning’s workout, I forgot the main ingredient — ground turkey and, as it's once again raining cats/dogs, I have no intentions of heading out again until Wednesday.

BTW, Catalyst. Not to worry. The label says "all natural, preservative free", so I should be okay, so long as I don’t add too much, make it too spicy, when I get around to making chili.

I Love When a Plan Comes Together

Thus far, with one exception, the plan to not see another human being until tomorrow has been working.

The one exception was when, seeing a delivery guy toss a package towards Next Door Neighbor’s door early morning, and the package seeming to go unnoticed by her as it was nearing late night, I knocked on her door to alert her so it wouldn’t be stolen.

We do that for each other — when I don’t realize a package has been delivered, she’ll knock on my door as well.

She said she’d been expecting and had waited all day for the package. Wasn’t happy to learn it had been there all day. That I happened to be at the kitchen sink, saw through the window that the delivery guy didn’t even come all the way upstairs to knock on her door or take a photo to show item delivered. He just tossed it at her door from halfway up the landing.

So, anyway, I took the interaction as an opportunity to ask about the foil on TinTin’s window, saying "Since you know her, can you tell me why there is foil on her window?"

NDN said, "Some of these old folks are not well".

It's true what they say about "Black Don't Crack", so it's difficult for even me to gauge the age of my compatriots but inasmuch as she looks to be barely over 55, if that, I say, "She doesn’t look that old to me".

NDN pointed a finger from each hand to the side of her head, twirled the fingers around to indicate loony tunes and said, "So many are coming in that are not entirely well that it’s getting scary".

JESUS!

My instincts to keep to stepping when I saw TinTin on her patio that day, not stop and introduce myself as I always do with new people to the quad, were right on.

So, there’s that.

As the weather channel promised, it has been a rainy weekend, so I was surprised to see the landscapers show up, try to work in between pockets of heavy rain and somewhat clear skies.

Once it became obviously futile to continue in the weather, they abandoned the project for the day and then, during a clear skies moment, I spotted this …………

Dream Lover. MVP or Just a Player

"What’s he doing standing so near to where Karen lives?" thought I.

"Karen" being the Talker's downstairs complaining neighbor, and the woman Dream Lover filed a complaint against for aggressively pursuing and writing love letters to him.

Now here he was standing directly in front of her patio, where she obviously could see him through the window.

Odd.

It got odder.

He was soon joined by Boebert — the woman he’d come onto but appeared to have been rebuffed.

Evidently, the two of them had been coming up the walkway together ... possibly from his unit, she’d stopped for something — probably to pick up mail because I saw it in her hands, he’d paused in front of Karen’s area, and Boebert caught back up with him there. The two of them then walked together towards her unit.

Well, Well, Well.

That went from hot to not only cold but frigid/frozen with Boebert's vive being, I'm not talking to you, I won't even look in your direction, now things are smoking hot.

I can only conclude it's like what NDN said, "Some of these seniors are not well".

I guess the Little Black Lady he'd introduced to me, as flavor of the day, is now on the back burner.

And that's the tea.

T.G.I.F.

If all goes as planned, I won’t have to see another human being until Monday.

Waking up an hour before the alarm went off, not ready to get out of bed, I opened up Netflix on my phone and thought I’d give Fool Me Once a look.

Don’t think I’ll get beyond the first episode because not only is it too suspenseful, it’s predictable. I’m thinking the main character is being framed for a death that didn’t happen, because the MIL and not-dead husband want custody of the daughter and the main character out of the way — in prison or a mental institution. That’s a plot I’ve seen before, so I think I’ll pass.

Once out of bed, I saw the landscapers were here. I’d seen them every day this week working away, shoveling rocks in, but didn’t stop to question what they were doing, until this morning.

As you can see from the video, while a lot of the country is suffering a deep freeze, we’ve been having near perfect weather last few days, but rain is predicted for the weekend.

Heading out the door for this morning’s workout, first making certain TinTin wasn’t outside — except for that one morning when she was at her patio storage door, she stays locked inside, so I don’t think I have to worry about running into her anytime soon. But it doesn’t hurt to check first.

So, as I was saying ……… heading out the door, I saw management had posted a notice to our doors.

"Dear Residents, in order to enhance the services we offer".

Right away, my hackles went up because ……… What services? Management and Corporate offer no services whatsoever.

They long ago dispensed with coffee and donuts and a TV in the Community Room, not to mention you all know by now the saga of the refrigerator.

There was a time when the cost of TV and Internet was provided us on a group basis at something like $25 a month. Then all of a sudden, it was "if you want it, you’ll have to provide for yourself on an individual basis". Many cannot afford the $207 it now costs, have no TV, have no internet.

So what services are they alluding to?

Heck, we’re lucky if Maintenance responds to requests for services we’re entitled to because we pay rent for said services to be provided.

What follows after that triggering first sentence is ……… "In order to enhance the services we offer (bleh!), and the way we communicate with you about your community, we’d like to find out more about the technology you use in your household" and a two-page Resident Technology Survey asking if we have an iPhone or Android, Apple iPad, Samsung Galaxy, Kindle Fire, Google Pixel, Internet-connected laptop or PC and Does anyone in your household have any experience making online payments.

How intrusive. It’s none of their damn business.

Don’t know what they’re up to, but perhaps it’s a glimpse into why my instinct was to question if Assistant Manager transferred to another property to be closer to family, as she said, or because she knew something was coming down the pipe for us and she wanted no part of it.

At any rate, I will die and go to hell before I complete this survey, and I double dog dare them to do the usual 2nd request to complete and turn it in.

I don’t mind telling them it’s none of their business, and I bet I won’t be the only one going rogue on this one. Enough is enough.

Carnivores

Meat Man resurfaced yesterday.

As a reminder, Meat Man is the resident formerly known as Handsome Man here on the blog; but when he approached Home Girl in a sleezy disgusting manner, looking her up and down saying "I like meat", he suddenly began looking a whole lot less handsome in my eyes.

Having seen neither hide nor hare of him since late November, I’d come to the conclusion he’d moved, or either he or his wayward son had somehow been involved in that investigation into laundry room break-ins Management had going on, and got himself evicted. But then yesterday, as I sat on the couch adding photos to the latest Creative Memory album, I caught movement out the corner of my eye.

Looking over and out the patio window, I saw Meat Man walking towards his unit.

So that’s why his name still appears in the callbox, he actually does still reside in that unit, which means neither he nor his wayward son had anything to do with the laundry room break-ins.

So, that mystery has been solved.

As to where he’s been for two months will be solved when next our paths cross and I ask if he’s been in jail, in the hospital, travelling or just keeping a very low profile.

I’m not even close to uncovering the mystery behind the tin foiled window, but I did this morning see the New Neighbor up close and personal for the first time.

BTW, I’m open to suggestions as to what name to give this new character in Tales of the Complex, other than New Neighbor.

At any rate, heading out for this morning’s workout, focused, not paying attention to my surroundings, I heard a voice as I walked by her patio.

Looking up and over, I saw it was she, the New Resident in the quad — patio storage door open, saying and showing something inside to another woman.

I saw them before they looked over and saw me, so I said, "Good morning ladies".

I didn’t stop to introduce myself or anything. I just said good morning ladies and kept walking.

New Neighbor didn’t even look up as she said good morning back.

But then she looked up to see who she was responding to, and her face lit up like a Christmas tree when she saw me, whereupon she smiled and said "OH! Good Morning".

What the hell was that? thought I.

Creeped me out.

I never stopped walking during the brief exchange, and I never looked back to see if she still had eyes on me.

My take on her overly exuberant greeting is that just maybe, even though she keeps her windows closed off to sunlight and air, she can somehow see out, recognized me as the upstairs neighbor across the quad, became overly exuberant at recognizing me as a neighbor.

OR ………

And I hope no one takes offense to my using this term, but seeing New Resident up close and personal, my Gaydar immediately sounded. Not just on her, but the girl with her, which I took to be her little girlfriend.

I really don’t care except, just like Homegirl didn’t care for Meat Man looking at her like a piece of meat, I didn’t care for how New Neighbor's smile (leer?) and exuberance made me feel like I’m an option on the meat counter.

They’re Here

During this morning’s workout, Trainer asked if I’d heard about aliens at a Miami mall.

I said I’d flashed on a news article, didn’t bother to read it because I’d assumed it was referring to aliens crossing the border and being housed in the mall.

"No, not what was meant" said he.

The story is that a portal opened in a Miami mall, grey splotches, assumed to be alien beings, have been seen moving around in the mall, resulting in people running, screaming, followed by a huge police presence.

I’m not saying that either Trainer or I believe in alien beings, I’m also not saying that we don’t. Anything is possible, and our human experiences and knowledge are limited.

One of the theories as to why a portal would open at the mall is that the coordinates are backwards. That an alien base exists in the Antarctic’s and if you flip the coordinates of the mall, you end up in Antarctica.

So, I say to Trainer that, according to Skully and Mulder, aliens are superior beings, wouldn’t make that kind of mistake, that we humans are considered the dumb ones in the universe.

To which Trainer replied, "No matter what race, nationality, being exists, you can count on finding a few screwups in the group".

He’s got a point.

I wasn’t going to post today, had no plans to post about this morning’s conversation about aliens until, a short while ago I glanced out the patio window and saw that, in addition to still having a dresser drawer on her patio, the new resident in the quad has placed tin foil on her window.

Is that her alien repellant?

Will there be more?

And if it's a repellant, shouldn’t she be wearing it on her head instead?

They’ll Never Know

Still relatively quiet and uneventful around here on the complex.

I say "relatively" because there was a little neighbor vs neighbor beef over removing clothes left too long in the Laundry Room washer.

The two neighbors involved both live in my building — Neighbor 1 lives downstairs beneath Next Door Neighbor's unit; Neighbor 2 lives upstairs around the corner.

Neighbor 2 tells me she removed Neighbor 1’s clothes from the washer, piled them up nicely so she could use the machine.

When Neighbor 1 returned to the Laundry Room, found her clothes out of the washer, the conversation went something like this.

Neighbor 1: You can’t touch my clothes.

Neighbor 2: I waited half an hour.

Neighbor 1: I’m going to complain to the office.

Neighbor 2: Go ahead.

Neighbor 1: And you can’t have a dog in here.

Neighbor 2: My service animal goes everywhere with me.

Neighbor 1: Well, what if I kicked your dog?

Neighbor 2: I’ll call the police and have you arrested.

Whereupon, Neighbor 1 backed off and left the Laundry Room.

Other than that, it’s been all rainbows and unicorns.

I was lucky at Friday’s bingo, won Game 3 and chose a Peppermint Snow scented candle as my prize.

At the end of bingo, we had a going away party for Assistant Manager.

After 9 years here, she’s relocating to another Corporate property — in order to be closer to her son ... or so she says.

I don’t know that I believe the reason given, that maybe she wants to get away from the current manager that so many seem to hate, or that something is coming down the pipe for us that she wants nothing to do with, or perhaps it’s to get out of that building that I suspected of having something wrong with it when we were evicted from the Community Room for "safety reasons" back in August — when something was released into the air, followed by Community Manager becoming ill, Assistant Manager and her husband also becoming ill.

At any rate, she’s gone and the job of Assistant has already been filled.

I haven’t yet heard what’s going on with Boebert’s cat — whether she has to give it up because her doctor won’t give her a companion letter.

However, I did learn companion letters are a thing, others have had to provide said document.

Who knew?

The Dyson was moved over a few inches and lower to the floor, which left two pretty deep, $85 dollar sized holes in the wall.

And btw, I did learn management has the discretion to charge whatever fee they want for holes in the wall, but they cannot charge if the holes have been filled. So, if I ever move, I’ll make sure to toothpaste the hell out of this place. It will smell minty fresh.

So, anyway, I got to work with my little repair kit.

When all was said and done, even going over the area with toothpaste since so many suggested it, I ended up with a good enough repair job.

Problem is ... the whiteish color doesn’t blend well into the shell-colored walls. The areas are so bright that it’s like shinning a flashlight drawing my eyes in that direction the moment I walk through the door.

I can understand how toothpaste mixed with oatmeal would have solved that color problem, but too late now. I solved the issue in a another way.

I moved one of my vinyl rodeo wall stickers from the rodeo scene over to cover the whiteish areas.

They'll never know.

In For a Penny, In For a Pound

Believe it or not, other than that business of skimming equipment at the corner gas station, and possibly the market, it’s been a quiet uneventful week here at the complex.

With Little Stalker back in San Diego, expected not to return until March, and with Red Light being careful not to aggravate whatever is wrong with her foot by climbing stairs again anytime soon, there’s been no one interrupting my aloneness, no one knocking on my door, other than delivery personnel.

So, it’s been a peaceful week of the Three C’s — cleaning, cooking, crafting.

Other than the C’s, I’ve been destroying property.

Needing a new vacuum to replace my dying Eureka, and seeing Dyson cordless selling for hundreds off, I sprung for one.

It came with the option to recharge with a cord or to wall mount the charger.

I didn’t care for the vacuum leaning against the wall or side of the refrigerator — too expensive to risk a fall, so I drilled rather large holes in the walls, inserted drywall anchors, screws and voilà.

Problem is, I don’t like the placement so far off the floor or with all that empty space between it and the refrigerator. So, the plan is to tear everything out of the wall, drill new holes, reposition, fill in the old holes.

Next inspection, when management sees the Dyson hanging from the wall, and maybe not so invisible filled in holes, MANAGEMENT IS GOING TO KILL ME. Or at least want to.

They’ll probably reissue the notice reminding us residents will be charged $85 per 1x1 sized hole.

What with medal holders in the living room, various artwork hanging in the hallway and decorative rugs on the walls in both the bedroom and living room, I’m already on the hook for a small fortune with 42 holes — four of which are of the $85 variety, drywall anchors and screws it took to hang two Michonne of Walking Dead swords in the bedroom, and now four more anchors and screws for the Dyson tearing up the walls it’s like that saying ………… in for a penny in for a pound.

At any rate, they can’t charge me until I move or die, at which time they’ll bill the family.

Maybe, along with important papers for family upon my demise, I should include an envelope with cash estimating the cost and a note to management — "sorry about the holes".

Suspicion and Distrust are Good

Back in November, I’d blogged about how one of the Sikhs that own and operate the gas station at the corner had thought it funny to cough and then back hand waive his germs towards me.

One comment was "You are a brave soul to go into a gas station store and pay for your gas. I use my credit card", to which I replied "It's dangerous to use cards around here as crooks set up gadgets to read cards. We're warned to check for gadgets first, but I don't know what to look for, so I play it safe and pay cash".

So, it looks like my now suspicious and distrustful nature served me well, because Red Light called late last night, asking me to create a flyer for something I said no to because I felt it wasn’t in our bailiwick.

What she wanted was a flyer warning resident to not use their credit or county issued electronic cards for purchases at the corner gas station, because Dream Lover and Complex Manager both had their cards skimmed.

Dream Lover got taken for $900; Complex Manager (CM) "lost her whole paycheck".

Inasmuch as Red Light had suggested CM put out a warning notification to residents, which CM had not only refused to do but ordered Red Light and Dream Lover to "not talk about it with others" (that was nervy of CM), Red Light was incensed, said "She (meaning CM) won’t do anything to protect us around here, and she won’t let us protect ourselves" and was taking it upon herself to put out a flyer/warning notification.

When I said no, to let word of mouth handle it, Red Lights said, "I’ll make one up myself".

I doubt it, because she doesn’t want to get into any more trouble with management than she’s already in. Besides, her modus operandi is to stand quietly in the background while cajoling and manipulating others into doing her dirty work.

No doubt, word of mouth will keep others around here from being victimized, but I feel for the many other clueless victims stopping into the station for gas and snacks, and made a point of calling Twin 2, telling her not to use her card for gas at that location.

Once word does hit the grapevine, I imagine folks will be sympathetic to Dream Lover, but CM’s loss will be viewed as karma for being so mean to us.

After hearing Dream Lover used his card inside, and CM used hers at the pump, I’m now suspicious of it being an inside job, because how did someone attach the credit card skimmer to the machine on the counter when there’s always someone working at the counter, which now makes my suspicious and distrustful nature to amplify. I am now worried about using the ATM inside the market.

Can’t trust anyone, anyplace, anytime.

UPDATE: Before I’d had time to proofread and post the above, I had to leave for this morning’s workout and, before I even got to the car, I learned the grapevine had been hard at work overnight.

Our Boebert character — little miss don’t take my picture at bingo because I’ve got a lawsuit going, approached me with "Did you hear about the skimming at the 7-Eleven?"

When I returned from the workout, two other residents approached and warned me about the skimming.

No need for a flyer at all.

I was almost late to the workout, because Boebert was unloading, and I was interested in what she had to say.

"Pray for me" said she, because CM was ordering her to get rid of her cat.

"Why? It’s an indoor cat" asked I.

Though she had the cat when she moved in, at which time having the cat was approved by the previous manager and is on her lease, our current CM is saying Boebert has to supply a "companion letter" from her doctor and her doctor won’t give her such a letter.

I’ve never heard of such a thing. Besides, plenty of residents have cats and dogs, but Boebert said she’s being told they all have submitted "companion letters".

I don’t know if I believe that, so I suggested she check with the individuals that have pets and check her lease.

"THIS HAS TO STOP!!!" she blurted out — meaning CM’s harassment of us residents. "I’VE ALREADY HAD TWO HEART ATTACKS. I DON’T NEED TO HAVE ANOTHER"!

Well ……… the info about heart attacks is interesting, and the way she so quickly got all red with rage was a bit terrifying and gave me an idea as to why she’s got some kind of lawsuit going on. My guess is it’s one of those Dr. Bill LaTour disability claims.

At any rate, next few days around here should be interesting as I watch the grapevine continue to wind its way in through and around.

Two Days In

Two days in and so far, so good.

I was mercifully spared from working out New Years Day by an early morning message from Trainer saying he’d opted not to open the studio that day, would see me Wednesday.

YIPEE, thought I.

Not that I don’t enjoy working out — hard and exhausting as it sometimes is, I do enjoy working out, am grateful to be able to do so because, when I feel a slump, I generally feel better after. It’s just that I sometimes resent being locked into the routine of, three days a week, having to get up at a certain time, suit up and head out.

A part of me always yearns to retreat from the world, self-isolate like so many of the seniors around here who are never seen, do not come out, and that routine — for better or worse, won’t let me give into that yearning.

At any rate, the cancellation gave me the impetus to not only get the patio decorations back into storage, but to spend the day better organizing the kitchen counter to give me more space, the kitchen cabinets — so that I can easily see what I’m looking for, rather than engaging in a frustrating hunt, and just better organize things in every room to make the rooms not seem so cluttered with stuff, without throwing out items I was sure I’d later regret tossing out, as I so often do.

Painted Rock Lady must have been sneaking around early morning New Year’s Day because, when I left the unit to head for the liquor store, play my lottery numbers, I found she’d graced my walkway with new creations.

As for the lottery, with the pot of all three games now in the millions, I couldn’t risk not playing, only to later learn I’d missed out, that my numbers had finally come up.

So, I suited up for driving to the liquor store and, on the way, looked over towards the area that is the entryway into the nice neighborhood behind us and saw the recently developing homeless encampment had disappeared.

Not too surprising since, at last Friday’s bingo, the topic of the encampment had come up. Shadow and the Baker both said they’d "called it in".

I don’t know who they called to get those folks removed, didn’t ask, but I’ve got mixed feelings about it.

It wasn’t on or in front of our complex, which made it not our problem, so why call?

The unhoused have to go somewhere and, if not causing problems, live and let live because, as the saying goes, "There but for the grace of God go I".

It was more a problem belonging to the businesses in that area, and the more prosperous living behind us, who use the area as a walking trail — all of whom I’m sure "called it in". No need for anyone here to get uptight and involved.

I myself was impressed with one of the builds.

It was constructed in such a way that allowed for a doorway, and tall enough that the occupant could stand and move around freely inside.

That's a lot of construction materials to be carting around. Wonder how he manages it.

I also wonder where the occupant relocated to.

So anyway, tomorrow marks the beginning of my personal DÉJÀ VU, when the weekly routine of everyday life begins all over again.

Heavy sigh!