One year ago today: May 26, 2022, now the dryer is old.
Five years ago today: May 26, 2018, no upper limit.
Nine years ago today: May 26, 2014, cluttered nonsense.
Random years ago today: May 26, 2007, the tse-tse millennial.
Another abbreviated day. My energy meter was maybe 6 out of 10. After walking the dogs, I was ready for a day-long siesta. Instead, I went over to visit WT again, but had to get to the library before closing. That’s another thing—Tennessee now has a policy of no quiet in the libraries. It was bad enough when they allowed it or ignored it on occasion. Now it is a deliberate policy. If someone wants to set up a drum kit in the corner, they are welcome.
This is particularly irksome to me because library staff since 1990 is predominantly ugly old white women who, as we know, are right about everything. They are far too old to be Karens, they are just protoplasm on a chair.
I talked to one stupid person at the front desk. She says it is an African drum session, every Saturday from 2:00PM to 3:00PM. She informs me that “things have changed from 50 years ago”. I pointed out that people who read often concentrate better when it is quiet, and asked if that had changed in 50 years. She said she “supposed not”. The implication was that if you did not like African drumming while reading a book on physics, you are a racist. I went over to take a look.
It was all immigrants. These people are not Americans and they never will be. Drum practice. In a library. That requires a special brand of stupid. Both for those who would do such a thing and those who support them. I asked the librarian if it was now policy to support those who intentionally bother other people. She was too stupid to understand the question. If anything was 50 years out of date, it is those horn-rim cat’s eye glasses she was wearing, which have over time become too small for her hugely bejowled face.
Main Street, Cambridge, Nebraska.
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Nor did evening bring any improvement in the prevailing millennial atmosphere. I head to the airport to pick up the Reb and they’ve closed the cell parking. Then you notice the sign. Millennials are great for useless signs that can only be read AFTER you’ve wasted your time. “We didn’t force you to drive to the airport.” The sign says cell parking has moved to 1415 MFBPK. Now, that’s fine for the few people from Nashville who know where Murfreesboro Parkway is situated. It’s on the airport grounds somewhere, so GPS just says “proceed to highlighted route”.
This resulted in huge lineups of traffic because everybody was lost. The airport, to help out, send a dozen security people to force the traffic to keep moving. Even if you find a vacant spot outside, like I did, they still make you move. Screw them, I just keep looping around the entire terminal five or six times until the Reb called, around 45 minutes late getting in. Wait, there’s more.
The big doggie is super protective of her. As got in the house, we let the doggie’s into the back yard. Chooks got skunked. He decided to protect the compost bin from a polecat, and it was a young one with that almost gasoline-pesticide smell. He dashes inside and proceeds to try getting rid of the stench on his bedding. She got him into the tub and I proceeded to gather everything he contacted and throw it in the washing machine. It was a cold night and we had to leave all the doors and windows open. What a fine treat for a lady who just got in from California and might want to relax.
Note the gasoline smell was so bad I at first thought he had somehow tipped over the lawnmower. He’s fully capable of pulling the tarp off and such mischief. I stayed awake until 3:30AM, then closed the doors except to the outside. I can get used to most aromas, the Reb cannot. The solution is plainly to take her to dinner tomorrow. I had pre-walked the dogs, fed all pets, and got the place shipshape, but it’s doubtful anyone noticed after that big smell. Ha!
On the walk, I noticed the contractors on that vacant house added a porch, but had four perfectly good bundles of shingles left over. They threw them in the mud. I dragged them out and if they are dry by tomorrow, I’m taking them home for my laundry deck. What luck, top quality, just covered in muck.
