One year ago today: January 2, 2016, The standard length is 12”.
Five years ago today: January 2, 2012, it’s a pick punch.
Nine years ago today: January 2, 2008, that grey cowboy shirt.
Random years ago today: January 2, 2011, another sellout – at Bingo.
MORNING
While the shed will be a savings over anything else affordable right now, it isn’t the easiest task either. It’s the only area of progress on the buildings until I get that 30 ton jack, so let’s resign ourselves to shed talk for a few days anyway. What else happens in Lakeland, Florida, when you don’t bush-party any more? (Actually, I’ll party any time, but from what I gather after a certain age, women don’t. They’d rather sit home and put unrealistic ads on dating sites.) Sorry, but I just will never believe such a huge number of women like hunting, fishing, and sports. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman fishing off a bridge in Florida.
That’s correct. There are people who no longer know how to make coffee from grounds, which you can project into a lot of other areas. When I was a kid at scout camp, there were already city kids who had no idea how to make biscuits on a campfire. They thought I was wasting lard. No big deal, you say? Remember that next time you spend $8 for a three-pack of paper towels. And remember, survivalists aren’t known for sharing with people who formerly criticized them. I believe they shoot first and reload after.
Something about the gospel radio on weekday mornings. It is country music but it follows a theme. And that theme is adultery. Maybe it’s the jockey, but a disproportionate number of the selections dwell on the topic. All sucky draggy songs about how the adulterers belong to someone else and long for the day they don’t have to sneak around. Around two songs per hour about being “set free” and such. You know, I’ve never cheated. When I want somebody else more, I break it off clean and make the move. It seems others think they can do this half-way, judging by how they do keep singing about it.
Unless you work with it all the time, only buy the small tubes. As you see, the stuff dries in the tube, no matter how carefully you preserve it. This cap has been drilled through to the bottom of the tube and hit only dry goop. Yet this was stored with the entire cap dipped in wax for a solid seal. I have that cup warmer set up specially to keep wax melted when I’m putting these things away. And they still dry out.
Nairobi.
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NOON
I done told you I’d get that bottle jack or learn the reason why. Guess what? All I have is the reason why. Eight trips to the store in 14 days to find out they can’t order it on-line. That was the outcome, it was nearly 45 minutes getting that information out of them. If I’d known that, or put another way, if they had made that clear from the start, I would not have wasted eight trips. Here’s the scoop.
It turns out the store, Tractor Supply Company, cannot use their computers to create a customer order. Explanation? Their staff is untrustworthy with customer information, which also explains why they won’t take cash. Of course, they don’t word it that way, instead they cooked up some excuse that their insurance won’t cover orders made in-store. The solution is to use your own computer, even if you don’t have one that on-line. Oh, and you have to set up an account on-line, no such thing as just placing the order. This episode, if I was paying for it, has already cost me $200. Oh, and the jack went up in price since I first tried to order it—and guess which price I have to pay?
Let me point out that although I was 100% in the right about the jack and took a loss on the price and two weeks of my time, I got resistance from Tractor Supply Company every inch of the way. They didn’t want to look it up, they didn’t want me to take a picture of the display, they didn’t want to admit out loud they had seen the picture, they didn’t want to process the order while I was watching, they didn’t like me writing down their replies, etc. That’s how we found out they couldn’t process it. What a pack of low-IQ nincompoops over there.
[Author’s note: it was also one of those situations where the “assistant manageress” took aversion to me when she surmised I was not reacting to her charms. She put on the act, but I’m phone company and could not be distracted from the issue of the bottle jack. Not an outright dislike, but that aversion you get when women who think they can manipulate anybody meet a man who is standoffish to such juvenile behavior in adult females. I get it lady, you are pretty by some standards, but I don’t watch TV. You can stand there smiling at me all you want, you’re just wasting my time.]
The manageress is an idiot in my book already. She was phone company management all over again, brim full of ideas how you could solve the problem she is creating, but no suggestions on what she could do. Why, her hands are tied. You know the type. Oh, she says, we never said you had to get an Internet service contract just to order on-line. You could just use another computer. That’s just great lady. Like she’s Miss Modern, telling us old coots about how new things work. Door-to-door down the street, “Hi, I’m your new neighbor. Can I come into your house and use your Internet computer to conduct some transactions. I won’t be long.”
By the way, I consider anybody in America who thinks not accepting cash payments is progressive to be primitive-minded. I’m reminded of years ago reading about the first explorers that went into Siberia. They found peasants so backward, “they did not recognize gold and would not accept it in payment.” That’s my opinion of anyone who won’t accept cash. Go back and live in your cave.
Resistance, resistance, like I was giving them a hard time, a tough customer. Yes, I did bring a witness with me this time, but I explained the number of wasted trips so far. I asked them to consider that I didn’t want any more customer service, I just wanted the jack. For some reason they kept explaining things I already knew, like the fact the jack was not on the shelf, that it was an on-line item (except it had to be your line, not theirs), and on, and on. After early an hour, I cut off the conversation and made arrangements to meet tomorrow.
AFTERNOON
The scooter brake is working again, but feels spongy. I put in two hours on the yard and such, mainly raking the richer soil from under the trees over the dried out lawn area. It’s still dirt but seems to be higher in humus content, so just by leveling the yard and clearing out the area where I want the porch, I’ll have enough to put a couple inch layer over the entire front yard. Shown here is how far I got today.
There’s the tip of the scooter rear-view mirrow in the corner and three of the leaf piles, or about one bag full. That area around the corner of the house is where I want my car port. And that space between the trees in the background is the intended location of my wood pile fence.
No luck finding a wood splitter yet. I tried to chop one block by hand and was forced to give up that idea. Still, everybody I talk to thinks it is a great idea. A woodpile intended just for show. There is enough wood for a small section a few feet high, but that is also a monumental amount of work. And it is very low priority, so you’ll know.
“The Pint of No Return.”
NIGHT
How did I know you want a progress report on the shed? It might have a lot to do with the amount of work so far. Here are a few patio blocks I collected from around the yard. This is not the finished pattern, it just to see what’s feasible. Agt. R says there is an easy way to mortar these brick-like pads in place. There must have been a wooden floor that rotted mostly away, since I keep raking up pieces of odd-size 3”x3” lumber under the dirt.
Once again I’m hearing rumors of government tightening up of the social security system. They aren’t messing with the age limits, a wise move now that the complacent pricks who ignored it are now being negatively affected. Ha, you dumb bastards, I didn’t hear you complain when it was still 30 years in the future, but listen to you now. Sob sisters. Instead we see more and more restrictions on residency and
ADDENDUM
Don’t ask why, but I read another chapter on the navigation book. It was mostly concerned with how the navy assigns tasks around the room. Stuff like who’s the weatherman, who runs the radar, who to blame when things go wrong. All it did was remind me of the chatter you hear on all the old war movies. And you learn what all the gear is called. It’s neat trivia but has no counterpart in real life.
It’s called “Navigation and Operations, Fundamentals of Naval Science.” Neat color plates of all the flags and charts. The difference between a chart and a map, is a map shows mostly land areas, a chart shows water with grid markings. I probably had an easier time reading the book than some cadet with no background in sextants and stars.
Last Laugh
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