Today Is ....

That is all.

Friday the 13th of Christmas

Second Friday the 13th we’ve had this year — first being in September, but it’s all good because today is a no bingo Friday.

Next week's Bingo Friday is not actually bingo. Instead, it's the Christmas Party we throw for ourselves — three days after the Christmas Party management has scheduled for us.

No contest … the one we throw for ourselves is bound to be better.

The Baker is planning a Mexican Food menu and all kinds of games.

Of course, she’s not taking it all on by herself — one of her daughters, who runs a catering business, will be helping; as will Talker and Red Light (who no longer even lives here) be assisting. Others have donated sufficient monies to cover the cost.

Going to piss Manager off that 1) Our party will be better than the party she doesn't even want to do for us and 2) Red Light is involved in the party that will be besting her.

One of the games the Baker is planning has something to do with Grinch characters she had me print out and cut into 2-inch squares.

Hmmmm? Can’t wait to see what that’s about.

Among the many other games she told me she's planning is the White Elephant Gift Exchange — where attendee, one by one, choose a wrapped gift from the table, opens it; and the next person has the option to pick a gift from the table, or "steal" what another person has already unwrapped.

The reaction to the money box I put together for last year’s Gift Exchange, was a hoot.

The guy's wife stole it from him, then Di (who always needs money) stole the cash from the wife. However, wife was smart. Instead of selecting another gift from the table, she stole the money back and, since a gift can only be "stolen" a limit of three times, wife ended up with the $20.

So much fun to watch that I'm again going with a money box as my White Elephant Gift for the table.

Last year’s money box was a social experiment in that I wanted to see how many would base their choice of which gift to take from the table based on how pretty the outside package was (much like the choices we make in life, based on appearances, only to later learn that what we chose is not all that great inside). So, I last year wrapped a small box in plain butcher paper with Christmasy ribbon.

Positioned amongst the fancy wraps, the plain unassuming gift was overlooked again and again and again, as residents went for big and fancy looking — thinking they held a treasure (when some of those fancy gifts were no more than water bottles and food storage containers).

Plain and simple, which held the actual treasure …… cash, ended up being the next to the last gift on the table to be picked.

I’m sure the folks that needed money were sorry they didn’t choose it.

To see if lessons had been learned to not judge by a plain/simple appearance, I again put together a small money box, wrapped it in butcher paper with Christmasy ribbon.

The extra gift last year was a Christmas coffee mug. This year it's a 2nd money box …… except this box is a little larger to extend the social experiment to whether size will be a factor in choices, i.e., which will go first, the little one or the big one?

In other words, I'm turning my fellow residents into test subjects, lab rats, just to study their habits in their natural habitat.

The small box contains $30, the larger box $20.

I’m taking that Friday off from working out, so I can get to the Community Room early, take photos as the festivities begin.

I also want to get there early enough to sneak my gifts on the table — just in case someone figured out I was the one that brought the money box to last year’s Party and would be watching for a repeat.

I’m actually adding another extra gift …… a purchase I wanted to return.

I wrapped this extra gift in Christmas paper, just because. However, I'm now wondering if I should give it a do-over, wrap it the same as the money boxes, so folks won't equate butcher paper with always being a money box.

Shall I?

I don't know what I was thinking when I ordered yet another gingerbread kit but, having decided I don't want to put this kit together, I filled out the online return paperwork and was planning to take the return paperwork and purchase back to the store. However, the rather quick online reply (automated? a bot?) was that "Your refund is on the way …… Feel free to use, donate or dispose of any unwanted items – no need to return them to the store".

Nice, I get a refund, but who does that …… returns payment but doesn't want the purchase back?

Pondering what to do with it, a lightbulb went off that it would be another extra gift for the table.

I have a sense no one around here is going to want to deal with a gingerbread kit, but at least it's off my hands.

Maybe they can regift it to a young family member that's into Starwars.

Friday the 13th

I didn’t realize today was Friday the 13th until I checked my calendar, to make certain I’d not had a senior moment and planned for the Community Meeting on the wrong day.

Nope. I got it right, 11:oo today.

The meeting was a snoozefest.

No one brought up Bill. The closest we got may have been when manager said, "It’s getting pretty bad on some things", that people are telling her things but don’t want to name names, don't want to say who.

Like I said, namby pamby.

Most of the meeting was manager complaining about being yelled at and harassed. That "I’m an employee getting blamed for things that are beyond my control" and "That’s not okay".

She used that phrase a lot as she went through her list of grievances — "It's not okay" to take furniture out of the dumpster. It's in the dumpster for a reason and could bring critters into units. "It's not okay" to get friendly with and feed the homeless passing by, it's definitely "not okay" to let them into the complex.

"If you let them in, they will come back".

She said one resident was caught opening the pool for a homeless individual.

She said she’s been nice (that’s not what I’ve heard), but is going to start cracking down on lease violators (it’s about damn time).

Some residents complained about maintenance work orders not being handled expeditiously.

Management’s excuse being overworked due to so many residents moving in and out. That they can’t keep up because "We have twice as many apartments moving out than moving in".

Management might want to think about why the turnover rate is so high, do something about it, give residents a reason to stay.

If management wants to keep this locking the refrigerator, taking out the coffee machine, no-frills living and residents continue to move out as quickly as others move in, the workload would be an easy fix by not burdening the maintenance guys with cleaning duties. Hire an apartment cleaning service.

The meeting wasn’t a complete waste of my time, as I learned something I never knew …… this is a pet free complex. That what dogs there are on the premises are authorized by a Companion Animal Agreement. "It’s not okay" to have pets without prior authorization, "it’s not okay" to have pets off leash, and "it’s not okay" to not scoop your poop.

I’m pretty sure TinTin did not get prior approval for the dogs brought in by her unauthorized roommates.

I also learned there have been several garage fires, due to residents storing flammables — the garages are for cars, "it’s not okay" to use the garages for storage.

All in all, my time would have been better served skipping the meeting, keeping my workout schedule. Except, the meeting allowed me to get up close and personal with the famous Hubba Hubba Awooga Silver Fox.

Readers might remember him as the resident — moved in August of last year, that the women were all gaga about. Described as mixed with First Nation Indian Blood and some other blood type, wore a ponytail, which blood mixture and ponytail made him "too handsome for words" but "He’s antisocial — doesn’t like people knocking on his door, and he’s really mean".

"Antisocial and mean", I later learned was because thirsty women around here were bothering him, and he’d expressed that he’s "sick and tired of women always chasing" him.

I myself have seen the Silver Fox around a few times, waved as I always do with residents, actually once walked close enough by him to assess for myself if he was all Hubba Hubba Awooga and thought him nice enough looking, but not all that special.

I did not see First Nation at all. Instead, I saw Louisiana Geechee, Creole, light skinned Black, but he does have lovely silver hair.

At any rate, I was seated away from the cluster of residents — for viral safety reasons, at the back of the room. Silver Fox sat right next to me, away from the cluster for a different reason that later became clear.

He leaned over, asked how Community Meetings work.

I said we’d not had one since 2020, and it’s usually a gripe fest.

He said he was wondering, as he’d not lived here very long, and had been "bum rushed" when he first moved in.

I played dumb — like I didn’t know how he was received and his response to how he was received, asked what he meant by being "bum rushed".

"Women showing up at my door with cakes, cookies, meals, asking questions about where I’m from, what I do" whereby he "Ruffled a few feathers, most of them are in here right now".

His reason for sitting far far away from the cluster.

He went on to share the women might not have been all that eager to get involved with him if they knew he’d been married three times.

"Yes" said I. "That’s not a good resume".

After a good laugh, he introduced himself, we shook hands, did the nice to meet you thing.

As the meeting droned on and on, began to go beyond the allotted hour, I got sleepy and bored, leaned over, told Silver Fox, "I’ve had enough of this. I’m leaving".

"Me too" said he.

On the way back to my unit, I stopped by the mail room.

He came in shortly after to pick up his mail, then began walking with me as we headed for our units, him saying that was his first and last Community Meeting, "It was nice to meet you Shirley. I hope to see you again".

This is probably the last time I’ll attend another boring Community Meeting — rearrange my schedule. As for hoping to see me again, not my type.

Friday the 13th

Second Friday the 13th we’ve had this year — first being in January also the second time it has landed on a bingo Friday.

Should be an interesting afternoon.

Friday the 13th

So, the day started off with me walking to the Pain Cave this morning. Not that there was anything wrong with the car, thank the Lord, but because there was chaos in front of the building, extending into the entry/exit areas.

What with the cones, equipment, street crew, traffic and this being Friday the 13th, I saw an accident waiting to happen, didn’t want the accident to involve me, so decided to walk rather than drive.

Getting to the Pain Cave safe/sound, returning safe/sound, I changed out of my workout clothes, headed down to the Community Room for bingo.

On the way to bingo, I saw even more chaos in front of the building.

First was a fire truck blocking the gate.

Then came an ambulance that got confused by the orange cones, had to stop traffic coming in the opposite direction with their horns/sirens so they could cross traffic and find a way in.

While the ambulance was struggling to get in, respond to whatever emergency was in progress, I was feeling sorry for the resident needing assistance, that because of all the chaos, help was being delayed.

After the ambulance worked it out, then came FedEx.

The firetruck had, by that time, left, so FedEx had an easier time of getting in and finding space to park the truck.

The ambulance did eventually take a resident away and, as none of us in the Community Room recognized the resident, we assumed it was one of the shut-ins that, for one reason or another, has never been out and about to be seen.

Seeing Jenne at bingo, wearing a top that would go with my leggings, and a bottom that would go with my top made me think of those fashion paper dolls. The kind that we could switch up the clothes.

This afternoon’s bingo was the first time I’ve seen Red Light since she called to tell me Activity Director was hosting bingo — when I went down and ended up walking out because of how disorganized AD was and how insulting the prizes were.

Telling Red Light that I was done with AD, I’d given her a chance and she’d failed, Red Light began making excuses for AD, said AD would eventually get better, that she’d call me when that time came.

Saying eventually doesn’t work for me, I asked her to not bother calling me, cause I was done.

I also learned why Red Light didn’t show up for bingo that time, didn’t bring down our equipment so AD could get started — which I pointed out AD should not have been dependent on Red Light, a resident, for equipment or anything else because AD is getting paid to do a job.

She agreed, said it’s pretty much what the last AD did — depend on residents. 

So, anyway, she'd not shown up because she had been sick that day, was just helping AD out by calling us residents to get us down to bingo.

Bingo today was fun — it usually is when we do our own thing, leave inept management out of the picture. I didn’t win anything but didn't mind because, though we had lots of prizes to choose from, I didn’t see anything I wanted or needed.

One resident who never fails to come to bingo is an 85-year-old who has lived here since the building went up and is an inspiration to all of us.

Let’s call her Buttons, because she’s the resident that uses those cute buttons on her bingo cards.

Buttons lives alone and is a crafter — knits, crochets, writes poetry.

She walks with a cane, but never lets it stop her or slow her down. She’s very involved here, there, everywhere, on a daily basis.

When not attending one of our events, she’s taking the public bus to the catholic church or a shuttle to the Senior Center to take classes in whatever, participate in activities that go on in those places.

At any rate, she reported to us that at 2:00 AM this morning, she was awakened by a touch, something or someone shaking her foot.

It was a man standing at the foot of her bed.

She says she sat up and the man ran out. Did not harm her, did not take anything, just somehow got into her downstairs unit, touched her to let her know he was there and fled when she sat up.

She didn’t scream her arse off, as I would have.

Didn’t call the police — which I probably wouldn’t have either because … what can they do if and when they arrive.

She also did not tell management. She just told us, whereupon some of the ladies went to the office and immediately told management.

I have to give it to Buttons, she was so matter of fact in telling of the encounter. Cool as a cucumber.

I guess at 85, she’s seen and experienced everything, and nothing is a big deal.

I wonder if management will bother to send out a bulletin reminding the seniors to make sure their doors and windows are locked up tight at night OR if it’s no big deal to them either.

And For My Next Mission Part 2

After yesterday’s workout, I had all kinds of out-of-the-area errands I needed to take care of. THEN, thanks to Debra at She Who Seeks’ post alerting me to it being Friday the 13th, I played it safe by switching those errands to today, stayed in my unit remainder of the day.

I only ventured out late afternoon, when I saw one of the upstairs residents of the building, mentioned in Part 1, out and about.

Asking if that downstairs unit was vacant, she replied "Oh no. That’s L’s unit".

"So she’s in there?" asked I.

"Oh yes, her family comes every day to take care of her".

"The reason I ask is because I saw the Marshalls searching that unit a little after 3:00 a.m. this morning, and it didn’t appear anyone was there".

"Maybe she’s in the hospital, but someone from her family is usually there. She has six sons. One was staying there taking care of her".

"Oooooh!", said I. "That may be who they were looking for, one of her sons".

"They don’t seem like that kind of people", said she.

"You can never tell anymore", said I.

After we parted, I saw her standing in front of the unit, peering in.

I’d already passed by there, saw that the patio shades were half open, and all one can see inside is dark.

So, anyway, that’s the scoop thus far, but I have a feeling the Marshalls will be back, because they left something behind — that thing they were looking at on the left side of the patio.

That's an unusual place for a lock. It's not serving a purpose being attached to the rails other than just a place to store it until they come back.

I just hope that, when they return, I’m deep in sleep because this waking up at 3:14 is for the birds.

While I was outside talking to this neighbor, my buddy Apache appeared. He’d been inside the unit of the nice old guy who lives next door to Karen, and was here to get a ride back to his place.

Apache said it was his birthday and, because it was Friday the 13th, everything had gone wrong.

His sister had taken him to the Casino to celebrate and, why they were inside, someone stole his sister’s truck.

Inside the truck were the keys to his apartment, his manager did not have a duplicate set and his social worker, who did have a duplicate set, was in Mexico.

I suggested a locksmith, but Apache said the nice old guy was going to drive him over to his apartment, and that he’d break in with a crowbar. He also said that, with the way his 13th Day was going, he’d probably get arrested for burglarizing his own apartment.

I wouldn't be at all surprised.

Also off my to-do list yesterday, besides completing that mission, was to Yelp review that dental office I left behind. I'd been holding off waiting for inspiration.

That duplicate bill that set off a rehashing of that experience, plus the rehashing causing me a sleepless night and a 3:14 a.m. wake up call was the inspiration I needed. This is what I wrote:

My first clue it was time to leave this dental office was when I could never get a straight answer as to why my regular long-time dentist was not available to treat me. My second clue was when the first dentist to examine me after a cleaning -- a dentist with which I had no prior history, without looking at the x-ray, came up with an area that looked like there'd been a filling, it had fallen out and needed a new filling. Thing is, there'd never been a filling in that area. Third clue was when, after a cleaning, I asked not to have that dentist again, asked for a different dentist and he too, having no prior history with me but at least did look at the x-ray, came up with thousands and thousands and thousands and thousands and thousands of dollars of work in a treatment plan using words to scare me like "decay". Inasmuch as I was experiencing no dental issues, had been cared for well by the former dentist for near 20 years -- who was considered one of the top three dentists in the Inland Empire Area, and he'd never come up with all these dental issues is when I should have awakened and got a second opinion but did not. I did, however, wake up after the first couple thousand dollars' worth of work, only to realize I probably had work done that did not need to be done, and consequently I am now left with a problem where there was none before -- painful to chew on that side. Not the same dental office it used to be. Don't believe what you're being told. Get a second opinion.

Friday the 13th

Fun fact … I got married on a Friday the 13th.

I did not intend to get married that day, didn’t intend on getting married AT ALL, even though the cop I was dating, who later became father of my girls, and I had been together for a while.

How it happened was … he decided at the last minute for us to fly to Vegas to see the Sammy Davis Jr. show and, once in Vegas couldn’t get tickets, the show was sold out.

On a lark, he suggested we get married and, caught up in the moment, I foolishly said okay.

Some guys make great boyfriends, but you wouldn't want to marry them, have to live with them 24/7.

At any rate, we rushed around, bought outfits and did the do, with me thinking well maybe Friday the 13th being a bad luck day, will do the opposite and bring us good luck.

News Flash, it didn’t; but oh well.

Coming back from the Dermatologist on Tuesday, I stopped for gas. While pumping, a guy at an adjacent pump engaged me in conversation, mostly about the fire off in the distance, I was looking at.

He said he had a fire app on his phone and that, when there’d been a really bad fire in that same location three years ago, people living in that area had asked for help on the app. He and some friends had responded to the plea, driven up, helped evacuate some of their animals.

As our conversation ended, he and I drove away, I began thinking … why is it that I normally so easily engage, enjoy listening to the life stories of strangers, but don’t want that security guard to even breathe my way? 

Looking through old photos to email to a woman who found me on Ancestry and is doing root work on the family (more on that later), mystery was solved.

The Ex-Husband

The girls dad was a Handsome devil and, while looking at that old photo, I realized the Security Guard gives me the heebie jeebies because he reminds me of my ex. The resident I refer to in the blog as Handsome Man also reminds me of my ex, which is why he too gets on my nerves at times. Both are tall, dark, good looking, well built, both carry themselves in a dignified manner and give off that arrogant self-assured vibe that so annoys me.

So, there you have it.

Heebie Jeebies mystery solved.

My attitude towards the two is a case of Once Bitten.

Doesn't mean that every guy who reminds me of my ex is an undercover psycho, who lures women in with their good looks and charming dignified demeanor but, if the vibe is felt, doesn't mean they are not.

And while we’re on the subject of devils — this one not tall, not dark, certainly not good looking or carrying himself in a dignified manner, but most assuredly giving off that arrogant self-assured vibe … the Tyrant has sought fit to bestow a movie on the seniors this evening — A Quiet Place is to be shown in the Clubhouse at 2:30, and this time the Tyrant made sure to indicate RSVP.

I’ve not seen A Quiet Place, but I know it’s hours of no talking by characters in the movie because, if you make a sound, it will attract a monster.

I do enjoy a good horror, but that kind of suspense stresses me out.

I’m hoping to run into Church Lady, so I can ask if she’s planning to attend this afternoon. When my buddy Apache was in charge of Movie Night, Church Lady was so over the top appalled at his showing Halle Berry/Billy Bob Thornton’s Monsters Ball to the seniors, because of the "nasty" sex scenes. She disapproves of movies with “bad words”, movies with blood, so I’m curious to see what about A Quiet Place, a movie filled with silence and monsters, will offend her sensitive nature.

Will be interesting if any of the residents respond to the Tyrant’s movie night at all, but not interesting enough for me to go down and check it out.

Friday the 13th

 That is all.

Friday the 13th Again

We just had Friday the 13th in December ─ for which I edited Pikachu to be wearing a Santa hat.

Seems awful soon to have another 13th. How often does this day come around, thought I.

The internet tells me that, on average, there’s a Friday the 13th once every 212.35 days, at least once every year, but can occur up to three times in the same year—"for example, in 2015, Friday the 13th occurred in February, March, and November. 2017 through 2020 will all have two Friday the 13ths, and the years 2021 and 2022 will have just one occurrence each”.

That being so, you can expect to see Pikachu again this year, edited to reflect what’s going on in the world at that time.

I forgot to mention in yesterday’s post that, when the specialist walked into the examination room, she introduced herself, held out her hand and I, like a fool, responded and shook it.

Immediately remembering I said, “We aren’t supposed to do that now”.

“You’re right” she mumbled. “We’ll both wash our hands” she said as she headed to the sink and began washing her hands, while I reached into my bag and sanitized my hands with one of the handy wipes I always carry. LOL.

I remember once, when I was working, had a problem with my computer and I.T. showed up eating a candy bar, licking his fingers, touching the computer keys.

It was disgusting. I was in shock, while he appeared oblivious to being a pig.

I didn’t want to touch his DNA so, when he finished his work, I pulled out wipes and began sanitizing the keyboard.

I.T. Guy was HIGHLY offended, and said so as I continued to silently sanitize until he stormed away.

Times have certainly changed. Now I get praised for whipping out wipes.

Friday the 13th of Christmas, WHAT?!

Even though I don’t entertain, I enjoy decorating for Christmas. So, it’s looking pretty festive around here, if I do say so myself.

The entry way looks inviting.

My Christmas Coffee Mug is back in play. 

As you can see, my nails are festive. And my friend Q sent me a Christmas card.

That makes one!

LOL.

I haven’t sent out a Christmas card in years, and generally don’t receive more than two myself — one from The Seer, even though I don’t bother giving her one in return, and one from that woman I’ve been friends with for 45 years, even though I also don’t bother sending her one in return. (This is the friend that keeps sending me invitations to social events I always rsvp can’t make it).

I just don’t do Christmas cards (or many away from the complex social events for that matter).

At any rate, inasmuch as The Seer is busy with Shadow and that friend of 45 years is finally fed up because I recently rsvp’d I couldn’t make it to her 50th wedding anniversary, receiving a Christmas card from anyone never entered my mind but then, here comes a card from Q.

Backing up to that 50th wedding anniversary story … when I rsvp’d I couldn’t make it, she actually called me on the phone.

”GIRL! What’s more important than my 50th anniversary!?”

In my head my response to what was more important was “anything, even root canal”, because I never liked her husband, did not care for the way he disrespected her by cheating on her with some of her friends, don't see her 50th as a celebration, more like 50 years of grin, suffer through, bear it. But I held my thoughts in and used for an excuse my food allergies, how it restricts travel, that I would not be able to eat or drink anything.

She said she understood but, for the first time in years, no card, so I think she’s mad.

No matter. She’s a nice enough woman, but I outgrew her 20 years ago and she won’t let go — always keeps up with where I am, what I’m doing, calls and bends my ears for hours, all the while saying nothing — talking about people, places, I don't remember, things I’ve no interest in.

On the other hand, Q gets me. Q is important to me so, while at Walmart picking up pre-baked holiday cookies for the seniors to decorate, I looked for a card for Q.

Have you any idea how difficult it is to find a card that isn’t sappy sentimental sweet or funny?

The looking for just one card was taking up a lot of time, and everything I picked up was so cloyingly sweet that I couldn’t take it. I didn’t even bother to look at the funny, because what I was looking for was a simple Merry Christmas/Happy Holiday, which I finally found in the Peanut Signature section.

I did not realize, until the cashier rang it up, that one card was priced at $7.99.

DANG!

Oh well. At least I got a card off to Q, so my holiday obligations are done; and, if anyone else does give or send me a card, well then it’s on them cause, like I said … done.

Friday the 13th

That is all. LOL.

Wag the Dog

Because I played it safe and remained indoors, I made it safely through Friday the 13th.

There was that snoring from the downstairs unit being so loud that it woke me up at 2:30. I didn’t get back to sleep until close to 5:00, slept until nearly 11:00, which pretty much threw my daily routine out of whack, so I suppose that could qualify as an unfortunate incident associated with Friday the 13th.

The snoring has only awakened me once before, but I think I’m going to start keeping a log to counter attack any future complaints from Little Miss Looney (such as my TV being too loud – which it probably is), since she’s proven herself to be a complainer.

I was almost tempted to head out in the afternoon, when I saw a Pokémon I wanted was just down the street at the dog groomers, but not wanting to risk it, I passed.

Wasn’t easy, because it was a girl I’ve only seen once since I began playing, and it took an entire year for that encounter. I managed to capture her that time, and it would have been nice to get her a sister.

Jynx

Tomorrow, Sunday, is April’s Pokémon GO Community Day, 2:00 to 5:00.

That’s too late for me -- I’m a morning person, so I’m passing on whatever specials the game is offering, and opting to do my hunting today, at the University.

Apache’s birthday is coming up. That’s likely to turn into a big deal around here because he’s a favorite, management excluded.

Apache is a constant thorn in management’s side -- but only because he makes them accountable, which is what management can’t stand about him and what us residents appreciate him for.

He’s been especially protective of me – giving the office who and what for when I had to go to a hotel because former Assistant Maintenance Guy wouldn’t respond to my after-hours emergency when the smoke detector was beeping, and he volunteered to lock up the Laundry Room at 10:00 PM when my downstairs neighbor lodged complaints because she thought it was I, up and making noise at 3:30 A.M. when, in actuality, it was someone doing laundry.

At any rate, I thought I’d give him a gift. But what do you give the guy who literally has everything?

The answer popped up on the news feed yesterday when I saw an article entitled “Trump Neckties are Done and So is His Merchandizing Empire”.

Apache is a die-hard supporter of the Orange Idiot in Chief. He has the red hat, a medallion with the Orange Idiot’s face front/center, and who knows what other memorabilia, but I bet he doesn’t have this ….

Success by Trump Eau De Cologne

That article indicated that, before the Orange Idiot in Chief ran for office, he made millions by selling his name to other people’s products but that, “because of campaign-trail rhetoric on immigrants and Muslims, partners have quit” and the Orange Idiot’s goods are now being sold off at discount.

Originally selling for $60, marked down to $40, then $30, the cologne can be found for as little as $9.99 an ounce. 

Not familiar with the seller offering the $9.99 deal, I checked around and ordered from a trusted source for $17.67.

Apache’s birthday is next month, the perfume is to arrive next week, as will a birthday card.

Can’t wait to see Apache’s reaction.

He’s probably overjoyed right now with his boy’s strike on Syria. I myself am not buying it. I think the whole thing is Wag the Dog to take attention off Stormy and the Russians.

Unfortunately, it will probably work.

At any rate, if you’re looking for what I consider a gag gift or a souvenir, just in case Wag the Dog doesn’t work and impeachment is in Orange Idiot’s future, Success for Men is available at considerable discount.

Highly Illogical

Shortly after I replied to a comment that I’d not been told much about the corporation’s senior complex in Santa Rosa, other than it had been destroyed by fire, management posted a bulletin to my door confirming Monday’s Bake Sale, proceeds to be sent to “our sister property in Santa Rosa affected by heavy fires” and asking for donations of “sleepwear, underwear, socks, hygiene/toiletry kits, bedding, dog/cat food, charging cables/power strips", etc. Also, "some of our team members live in mandatory evacuation areas, some of which have not been able to report to work due to road closures".

So much trauma every where you look, not to mention all the political drama, it really is beginning to feel like the end of the world to me.

I’m torn between donating cash or heading to Walmart to purchase items, but not until tomorrow because today is Friday the 13th and I’m just superstitious enough to not want to leave the unit and go any further than to drop off trash and attend tonight’s movie night – Madea Boo Halloween.

I’ll decide tomorrow.

Thursday’s recertification session, scheduled for 15 minutes, went on for 45, by which time there was a backup of the three residents scheduled behind me.

The extra-long session wasn’t because paperwork took that long, but because I had to listen to Assistant Manager’s personal problems.

I didn’t stop her because what she had to say was actually quite enlightening.

She lives on the property and, as mentioned in previous posts, she’d taken a lot of time off ill, in the last year or two, because of the stress of her husband’s sudden illness. I hadn’t realized the husband’s medical issues became so serious that he fell into a coma, not expected to live until it was discovered the cause of his decline in health was due to malpractice -- doctor giving him “wrong medication”. What his original problem was that called for medication, I do not know. Just that, over time, the wrong medication impacted his health and almost killed him.

On the mend now that the medication issue has been resolved, husband is weak and just starting to walk again, but wife credits his recovery to so many residents praying for him. To show gratitude, she and her family are hosting a dinner/dance for us residents.

Nice, but my gut issues preclude my attendance. Plus, I can’t dance – except for country/western line dancing.

As for the recertification paperwork, it’s signed and Assistant Manager reiterated I’m grandfathered because, “After the first year, you can win the lottery and still be eligible to live here”. 

Great, but if that’s the case, why are we doing all this proof-of-income paperwork? I even had to provide a statement as to the source of that windfall.

Why?

I didn’t think to ask at the time, but I will because my inner Leonard Spock finds the process highly illogical if my income is no longer a factor and inquiring minds want to know.

And this is just Step 1. Once the powers-that-be look over my recertification paperwork, there’s still a lease to be signed in February, and she tells me “Rent will remain the same. No increase”.

Color me lucky, relieved, but really confused.

After the session, I popped into the Community Room and ran into the resident you long-time readers will remember as the woman whose only income was caring for her mother. When her mother was taken away by the sister, she lost her income and became so gripped with fear and worry as to what would happen to her, where she’d go, what she’d do that she ended up hospitalized with a bowel obstruction that required surgery. Through the Grace of God and the goodness of her son, she’s managed to stay in the unit and later, when that source of income played out, got hired on as live-in caretaker for another resident.

It’s not a job she enjoyed, or a person she enjoyed working for/living with but, having no other options, welcomed and stuck with it.

Now she tells me she might be moving because she, like me, was blessed with a former employer tracking her down, and making her aware she’d left money behind in a plan. It’s a nice tidy sum and though she’d love to rent a unit here, her situation is different than mine in that my windfall arrived years AFTER I qualified to be a resident. Her living with someone else, she is not actually considered a resident and her nice tidy sum is over-income for qualifying to become a resident.

If she can’t work something out with management, and she’s going to try, her backup plan is to buy a trailer and relocate to a trailer park in Yucaipa.

Good for her.

Wish I could be as adventurous.