This long awaited Monday and everything went smoothly. In the flurry, I’d forgotten it was a holiday until I noticed zero traffic on the roads. Then it hit me, Memorial Day is a heavy travel weekend. Yet until close to 9:30 A.M. I barely say another vehicle. Is the worst over? I don’t think so, there was a time they said gas would never hit $3 a gallon. Oh, I can solve the problem. Since the government caused the problem by overprinting dollars, simply remove the government tax from gasoline.
I got five loads into the new place. Around noon Jose biked over and we made a couple trips with the heavier material. It looks like another ten easy trips. Now the bad news. I took Pudding-Tat over and locked her securely inside to get used to the new terrain. However, she seems to have found a way out. I double-checked the perimeter and she is gone. Not even the food dish got her back by day’s end. Well, I did my good deeds with that one.
Wallace called to say he won’t be leaving for a few more weeks, part of it is doctor’s orders. He’ll be doing some visiting along the way, adding another week or so to the trip. So I rented out his room. Of course, now that I’ve seen the place closer, I notice the little things. A good example is there are that perpetual Florida problem, termites. These cannot be defeated by regular chemicals, they must be professionally removed. This particular infestation is minor, and I remind you that termites actually take a very long time to do any real damage.
A couple of the screen doors and closets don’t work right. However, for a 1956, the place is in fantastic shape. Somebody went crazy with twenty gallons of pink paint and got everything. The switch covers, kitchen knobs, aluminum walls. But you know, I like painting. The real challenge will be making something workable out of that long narrow work area. Also, the way the place is laid out, there is an odd shape in the front next to the living room. Too small for another bedroom, too large for anything else. Jose and I figure it must have been the original dining room. I’m thinking it should become the command and control center.
It was a cooker all day long so by mid-afternoon, Jose and I went for a drink of beer at Jimbo’s. We needed it, mainly because it took nearly an hour to cut down that tree mentioned y’day. Ecologists, don’t panic, it was an invasive species that will be gone anyway when this locality is flattened. Along with my beautiful coconut tree.
What? Well, okay, I didn’t really rent out Wally’s room. Heck no. I rented out my room. Mila, a Mexican lady, divorced, works over on Hallandale. Two kids who live with the husband in Mexico (this country is no longer a desirable destination for middle class immigration). I’d been inside for just an hour when I heard a knock and she was looking for Marisa. When I explained the situation, Mila was stuck without a place and needing to rent the room Marisa had, I guess, advertised several months ago. I noticed Mila was well-dressed and -groomed and driving a nice truck. She has my bedroom and run of the place until Wallace arrives. She seems astounded that she’s met me but she’ll get over it. I just knew that 19 foot spare room was going to come in handy.
Trivia. Who recalls the term “white hunter”? I know where it comes from. One of the first professional safari operators had two guides. One was a black Abyssinian and the other an Englishman named Alan Black. Imagine the difficulty explaining to some people which one you meant.
