Yesterday I listed 20 things, packed a bunch to just go to FedEx because I could not find one and going to FedEx only meant I could leave at 7 instead of 6, giving me another hour to hunt for the thing. I did finally find it which was good because it was a $100 item.
I got back in here and relaxed a bit, made a mayonnaise-kipper-mustard dip sort of stuff and had that on a couple of matzohs and that was dinner.
Ken had called around the middle of the day asking me if I remembered the entry code for the storage place and I said it's just the unit number plus 4 numbers we both know. He said he's trying to pay for one unit online that they're saying is behind. I said he might have to go by in person before he goes to work and deal with it in person. He agreed he might have to.
This had me thinking, though. I had all the pieces I needed together in a sort of kit in a box on top of my fridge. I just had to go upstairs and get a piece of cord and I had everything. I got my drill and bits too. I made this key organizer I'd designed in my head months ago and it took me less than an hour because it was really only drilling 8 holes, screwing in 2 screw eyes and 6 screw hooks, and putting the neat (and expensive) little tags on the keys. Then vacuuming the office, picking up the sawdust along with the rest of the stuff that builds up over a week, and cleaning the bathroom.
So when Ken came over right on schedule I was able to point it out and he was impressed. It's just holding the three keys for the three storage units, but I'm sure Ken might want to keep other keys on there. I told Ken how it was easy to put together because I'd planned it out months ago and bought the key tags and stuff. He said he knows how it is, that he's got unfinished projects all over the place at his house.
(I do, indeed, have another project in a box on top of my fridge. It's a self-defense whip to be made out of a piece of coated steel braided cable. They're supposed to be very effective and can be carried in one's belt loops. It was going to have it made and on me, in the Red White & Blue parade in case anyone tried messing with our people. But I didn't go, I realized we've got some pretty physically capable guys who would be there, and I didn't hear about anything happening. Whew!)
Ken had brought one of those lousy convenience store sandwiches and a bag of chips and I fixed him up a Diet Sprite because he "didn't feel like a burger" so I'm glad I'd gone ahead and eaten. Ken sure doesn't owe me a burger and fries when he comes over, all he owes me is a pay check which I got. Good thing I reminded him he's writing a double one because he'd forgotten about last week.
Then we talked about stuff, and at least didn't get into politics. After he took off I watched a documentary about a small restaurant run by a big, loud, cussy, genius-cook guy who wrote a book called "Eat Me" that somehow shows up on my YouTube suggestions. At the same time I took apart a lot of old gunky radio/phonograph stuff for interesting parts and put the junk I didn't want in a box and put it outside next to the door. It was nice to see the stuff gone when I checked today.
My Big Island friend, Pat, has an art studio run by another guy named Pat, next door. So I'd found the web site for the studio yesterday and sent this other Pat a message through their contact form, expressing my links to the first Pat and my concerns. So today I got an email back form 2nd Pat, giving me Pat1's phone number which I called, just getting a sophisticated answering machine. I recorded a message, confirmed it, and then marked it as urgent. I said to Pat2 that if I don't hear back by tomorrow we can go to Plan B which is Pat2 walking over to check on Pat1.
Pat2 hardly talks to Pat1, not because of being unfriendly, he just doesn't. Busy with his gallery stuff I'm sure, plus it's pretty hard to grill burgers and socialize over beers with a guy who eschews both. I told Pat2 that he's a real friend.
There's not a lot I can do if something's happened to Pat. Sure I could fly over there but then to do what? His wife/live-in girlfriend will be right by his side, I think. Pat2 replied and said that's a good idea.
I left here at 3 with a load of books, some trash, and bag of packages for the post office. Dropped off the trash and packages, and went over to my bank - I got there just as their afternoon break was starting so I read one of the books for 15 minutes then went in and deposited my check. Their number and my number only differ by a nickel so that's close enough.
I went to the Recycle Book Store and turned the books in, and looked around. The book about a Holocaust survivor who moved to Israel and fought for Israel after the war and eventually ended up in the US was still there so I got that, and a copy of "War With The Robots" by Harry Harrison which I'd read as a teenager. It took some sleuthing online to find out the author of a paperback book with a robot with weird 3-fingered hands on the cover. And I have $3-something in trade credit left.
I rode over to Whole Foods and had pizza and beer, then rode to Walmart and got things. Then back from there, and decided it would be neat to stop in at Nijiya, get some kind of snack and a large light beer, and hang out on the steps of the old hospital and read a chapter or two in the Robots book. So that's what I did. Seaweed arare, which I loved as a kid, the same book I read as a kid, the only thing different was the beer.
I picked up a bunch of books (some kind of Anne Of Green Gables series plus a few others) and got back here. I'd left the radio on and there was the whining, wheedling voice of Dirty Diaper Don going for a new lies-per-minute record. Everything he said was 180 degrees opposite of reality. What's scary is, I was kind of an idiot in my 20s and probably would be as determined to vote Republican as I am to vote Democrat now. Listening to that fat sack of shit reminded me, though, and I donated another $60 to the Biden campaign, as the $60 I'd set aside in a jar had not been touched. I'd taken $140 out at the bank, so that's my $200 "allowance" for this week. Plus whatever I bring in busking on Sunday.
No comments:
Post a Comment