Here’s a better photo of Lola’s, home of the $5.25 beer in brands you never heard of. It is directly on my ride home so I’ve been watching. They have a following of sorts but they don’t look like they live around here. They do have music on some weeknights. Then again, so do most places just until they build up a steady clientele.
Everyone has had to tighten the belt a little. That’s not supposed to mean me. It’s all those people who put everything on credit that have to haul back. Cowboy Mike came by the shop today. Who remembers a few years back when I was looking at all those mini-campers that fit on a utility trailer? Mike is in the market for a camper and what I’m about to write shows you how lack of communication can cost. He leaned back from the computer sighing that even used campers were so expensive. I stated if I had his tools and skill, I’d build my own, and showed him some of the offerings on-line. The cheapest reasonable unit was $6,000 meaning probably a third of that to build it yourself. Mike never thought about building his own and I never thought that he was unaware of the excellent designs available. Lack of communication at its finest.
For the record I checked into the operation that was hiring airboat drivers. No go. They are mainly shut down until September and their lease to operate the airboats runs out in 18 months with an unlikelihood of renewal. Plus, as hiring conditions they were insisting on several documents that have nothing to do with job skills and that I have never bothered to acquire. (Alas, I did not record which ones, but they were out of line.) Why would anybody who operates out of a swamp need to know your political leanings or how many motor vehicles are in your name?
I met up with Sammy, the bartender that originally got me into Jimbo’s. He needs some tapes put onto DVD. This means I was in the club in the late afternoon, which never happens but I’m glad it did because it brought back memories. There were around six women and myself, and they thought I was working a crossword puzzle where instead, I was listening closely with much amusement. The point here is that they were discussing relationships and I was listening. For two hours.
It was like being back at the phone company on evening shift. Such talk is therapy that most men could stand to hear. Don’t ever think you are the worst off for making bad decisions until you’ve heard women who’ve repeatedly made the same bad ones for a lifetime. They keep at it all their lives without any apparent self-correction mechanism. It takes me years to get over a relationship, but I eventually do. (Only to find there is nobody left worth having another relationship with, but that’s a different point.)
There is a hint I could pass on to older women that helps if you ever meet a nice guy. Like yourself, he will have a past, but don’t be so quick to conclude everything you don’t like is a result of that. All women I’ve dated in the last ten years have had something negative to say about my ex despite the fact I could not tell you the name of any of their exes. Not my business and I don't ask. That is a hint, ladies. You want to keep his picture on your mantelpiece? Go right ahead. It's your picture and your mantelpiece.
If we get married, you can take it down. Until that fateful day, quit acting like a jealous schoolgirl.
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