One year ago today: March 20, 2022, around the yard.
Five years ago today: March 20, 2018, running hot dog numbers.
Nine years ago today: March 20, 2014, I say it’s gout!
Random years ago today: March 20, 2008, the original trailer court.
Taking familiar route via Atlanta and up through Soddy-Daisy, I arrived in Sparta early enough to take the scenic path. It’s called the “Old Cookeville Road” (or similar). Once again I had surprising trouble finding a Dunkin Donuts on the freeway. Their egg roll is one of the few breakfast foods I trust on a journey. Beware the one north Macon, it has no interior seating. I mentioned to the manager that if he had put as sign about that odd and unpleasant surprise out on the freeway, I would not have driven a few miles out of my way, parked, and walked in. Being a millennial, his only response was that tard look that you’re the first and only person in the universe who ever had a problem with that.
I got through Atlanta, here is a view of their Sunday traffic. The next try was Calhoun, GA. It’s a few miles south of my usual pit stop at Dalton, but my gas needle was flashing. The GPS said there was a Dunkin, so I gassed up and followed the directions to an empty field next to a Hungry Howies. No, you can’t dip into that place to ask, as the staff ignores you until it is time for them to “show you a seat”. You know the brand of asshole “service” I’m referring to. I drove around for almost ten minutes. Finally, I see this lady crossing the parking lot and ask. She points and says it is inside that gas station.
I had been in that lot, there was no sign. But the lady had taken a shine to me and would not lie. Now, I had to drive around this wide plaza to get there and what do you know, no Dunkin Donuts. Screw this. It’s another hour to Hicktown (Hixson) so I said to hell with this. Eleven miles and half an hour wasted. As I got back on the artery to the ramp, I glanced in the rear-view to see behind a row of threes, there was a second gas station not visible from the westbound lane. By then, I’d have to cross the freeway into town and double back. I figured, screw them.
While I’d slept like the metaphorical log, I was and felt grubby. I dusted off at Wal*Mart and arrived just past noon local time. The Reb was busy and I wanted a shower but made the mistake of sitting down just for a second. I woke up past 5:00PM.
The Casbah, Algiers.
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So, grubby as I was, we went out for dinner to find out favorite spot was not closed on Mondays. I know, years ago I used to get on RofR’s case for not phoning ahead and it just happened to me. Ah, but back then, you got a human who was on the premises answering the phone. Between the lady this morning and finally traveling another ten miles to find a spot to eat, there are still women who wonder why men don’t ask strangers for directions. Here's the doggies answering the door. They don't even get up for me any more.
This minimal visit time is not unusual for use these days, she’s off to a gig in California and the dogs are so used to me they don’t even get up to say hello. Yes, I’m just a fixture around here. But should things go okay, I could be back in Florida next week. A couple cancellations and changes means the Reb could be back here by Monday. I love that woman to death, but that does not mean I like to do it in cold weather. Also, the computer I left here is cratered. Something shorted internally that I cannot fix.
We did have time to go over the finances lightly and the point is driven home—there is no such thing as a carefree investment. After I spent a dozen hours planning around the new Caltier window and teaching the Reb how to match up the different procedures, guess what. I logged back on to show her the easy way and Caltier announced they were reverting to their old formula. I told you it was unreasonable to expect people with differing schedules to invest that way. You have to grab them while they have the money. I transferred in $1,150 and called it a day.
