I found myself reading "Hell in a Very Small Place" for around the sixth time. You see, there was not one book at the sale y’day that interested me or that I had not read before. There were a couple of grade school history books, you know, the crappy ones that teach how Columbus discovered America and Germany started World War II. I went through the thousands of books and could not find anything new. There was a law text that delved into subtle tricks a lawyer is likely to use on an unknowledgeable witness, but it was not deep enough, and focused on civil law.
The cats were gone. Except for the one that gets behind the mother of all beds. I cannot move the thing myself, much less pick up the top mattress. Somebody went in overnight and swept up a little and took away the other cats. I snapped pictures so Fred could see that everything of value is long since taken out of there. Tomorrow I’ll go in there with some Hefty bags and a scoop shovel.
It is my day off, so I hung around all day working the computer and Internet items. I even dug into that problem whereby if you send a document to a printer that is not there, you cannot change your mind and “unprint”. This is unusually annoying on a network, where you often cannot see the printer.
Guess who called? Jeff, from Cahoots, the quarterly paper. He explained that although I did not make the last issue, the article on the bike path was “laid out” for the next issue. That was nice, and incentive to put in more material. It turns out somebody else has already used the angle of the lamp posts in the middle of the sidewalk. The City planted a row of them down the middle of a jogging path six months ago, but in my own defense, I never heard of it. My suggestion was original, just not first.
Still no word from Jane. I sent her an email by early afternoon. I do not know what to make of her but I cannot wait forever. There was another ad for somebody who could play the “Beatles”, I sent in for a song list. No more auditions until I see a song list, or at least a list of ten tunes. The 70s was a wild time and I like to learn a few tunes before I show up.
In a confusing development, another Jeff has been in touch. This is the guy who I helped fill out the on-line welfare application. I must change his name to Jay to keep things clear. It seems he is host of a sports radio talk show, “The Voice of Champions”. One hour on Sunday mornings. In return for some basic forms design and word-processing of standard releases, agreements and contracts, I get some radio time.
Slow down, I just said the time. He has offered to plug the shop or me, or the lessons but I told him to wait until I think this thing through. I don’t even know if other computer shops advertise on the radio, although any exposure for my school is always good for business. Is it a family sports show? Is it reporting, talk or commentary? The station, WEXY (1520 AM), is in the heart of Ft. Lauderdale poof territory.
Jay also does not remind me of a disk jockey, not that I know that many. (Three, in my life. Maybe four.) I do know, radio broadcasting or not, he is still looking for full time work. I talked it over with the gang and they like my suggestion. That is, instead of placing formal ads, we get honorable mention on the show. I thought AM was extinct. I could not find 1520 on the car or cupboard radio, just a ton of static and some vague Spanish. Yet, I am only 14 miles from that locality and Florida is probably flatter than the ocean on most days. Mind you, my radios don’t pick up any stations all that well.
What I have in mind is he mentions that he gets his computers fixed with us (or would if he ever buys one) and everything from lessons to where the band is playing that weekend (if I ever find a partner). There was a Fender Passport 250 on eBay for $380 with 3 hours left. Add $60 for shipping makes it $440. Should I go out and bid on it? No, I am tired and the bidding will soar at the last minute. It is the eBay way. Identical units are selling for $551 on the same page. I’ll wait until I’ve got a few more rehearsals out of the way.
I know what you are thinking, that if I can’t play on stage, I won’t even go out on Friday night any more. (That's worded badly, I rarely go out Friday if I'm not performing anyway. I think I wanted it to sound like a sacrifice.) Well, okay, you are right, but only because there is nothing else to do in this town. Except things like going out for dinner, which I rarely do. If I can’t get paid to go out, I can find any excuse to stay put. Um, okay, Publix has gotten past that batch of bad coffee and I just made a pot. Right there, I can’t leave.
There were some commercial VHS tapes in the box from Steve’s. Let me hook up a tape player in the Florida room and see what we have. There is a good mid-winter heat wave making it hard to get anything done outside. That has not stopped FPL from parking a huge truck with the motor running just outside my back door. What are they up to, there is no power out and it is after dark on Friday? As they used to say at the phone company, “The nice thing about overtime is that it creates more overtime.”
Ah, here is a tape called “Hurricane”. Where’s the popcorn?
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