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 Knock Knock 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!

2024 Now Loading

Have a Happy Healthy Safe Problem Free Prosperous New Year!