Domestic chores this morning — opportunity presented itself so I moved my laptop station (should be mobile with a laptop, but I’m not — could be in the 1990s for all I know) and performed a bit of dusting/vacuuming on long-time, put-off smutty spots.
The occasion was the heater in my apartment went cold before I’d even finished my cup of coffee.
Bummer-city real quick. My landlord says someone’s maybe on the way, maybe for sure. Always conscientious as renter, fastidious on rent payment, and hopefully the bullshit pays off with some type fixture this afternoon — really, not that difficult, more an inconvenience right now. Two days, I don’t know.
Cold is relative.
The news cycle ain’t pretty, either. Hasn’t been for awhile. Read way, way more than I ever post anything — and the suck of horrific shit forces me sometimes to daydream in a ‘make-believing‘ sort of way, unable to formulate words in my brain, must-less translate those self-same words onto a screen (was about to type, ‘words on paper,’ but the old analogy doesn’t make sense anymore). I do domestic chores instead, or stare at sunsets, which have been nice the last few days.
Now more than four months into retirement’s open spaces of time, the world now ‘out there,’ has seemingly, too, retired its freakin’ ass into a mental institution.
In appearances, a part-n-parcel is this: ‘Investigators say a father and son went on a multi-state crime spree Thursday, driving a stolen SUV from Texas to North Carolina, where they killed a husband and wife in Granville County, set the couple’s home on fire and stole their truck before shooting two police officers in West Virginia.’
Fortunately, both are now behind bars, and the officers are okay.
And motif for a lot of shit nowadays, not only in the above, but for a load of such incidents– Judy Law, a neighbor of the couple killed in that ‘crime spree’ (CNN): ‘“It’s senseless,” she said.’
And for boomer guys like me — sad the announced death of actress Donna Douglas this morning. She was 81, and a way-distant heart-throb for some of us in those pre-Kennedy-killing days, with her portrayal of Elly May Clampett, the hot, dim-witted daughter in the popular “The Beverly Hillbillies” TV show from 1962 to 1971. In that time, though, my TV/movie inspired-imagination dwelt mostly on Rob Petrie’s wife, Laura.
And for such a coincidence, Mary Tyler Moore turned 78 this past Monday.
Normal, too, always make whimsey-conversation with babies — always read to the kids when they were little, later on, too, but this is also something I did, but never paid any attention, other than I was crazy: ‘The effects of both of these activities were, however, less substantial than the positive effect observed for the more informal activity of frequently talking to the infant while doing other things; and this was observed for both communication and problem-solving.’ (abstract from a research-study out of Ireland).
Just talk to the kids. And it’s much, much easier in their single-digit days, way-easier, than when their ages are counted in two numbers, especially 13 and older — shit-hits-the-fan.
And this, too, from the Guardian: ‘Most cases of cancer are largely the result of bad luck rather than unhealthy lifestyles, diet or inherited genes, new research suggests.’
Shit is worse with smoking and other bad habits, of course, but still…
And still, too, the heater-repair guys came and quickly departed, my heat is back — ironic and shameful, but apparently I caused the heater to malfunction earlier. No great problem, other than two highly-paid-by-the-hour guys wasted time.
Now in early afternoon, more domestic and less filling…
(Illustration above found here).