I will repeat: I will not post any comments that include your non-relevant website on it. Nobody comes on here to read about your websites for car parts, drugs, Japanese doodads, Russian booze, penis enlargers, hot models for hire (and if any guy is dumb enough to fall for that one, he hasn’t understood a word I’ve said since I started this blog and deserves to be ignored on general principle) and whatever else you’re hawking. They will be deleted. They will not see the light of day, I don’t care how much flattery you stick on the front end (“This is the greatest blog I’ve ever read! You’re so witty! You’re so intelligent! I read you every day, I live for your stupendous insight into issues that mean the world to me and I weep with gratitude! Oh by the way, I sell drugs from third world countries that could easily kill you thanks to our lack of hygiene, here’s my website!”).
Comments that are actually relevant or in response to something specific are more than welcome. Now go away!!!! (Not you, average reader; you have no idea how many fake comments I had to delete this morning.)
I’ve been spending the last few days saying “WTF?” a lot. Big things, little things. E-mailed the handyman guy last Wednesday – who has been terrific (so far) - to ask about his schedule, I needed to clear the bags of packing material and broken-down boxes out of the front room. He said Friday; I said “Cool!” ... little bit of a short notice, but okay. I planned to come home Thursday night, pick up some final boxes from the storage shed, unpack those, and move all of the stuff that needed to be cleared away in one end of the room; move the plastic bins to the other end, because I wanted to use those to pack things I didn’t have room for in the storage shed again.
Came home Thursday night with the boxes to unpack, opened the front door and said, “WTF!?”
Instead of Friday, he had come on Thursday during the day, and cleared out everything ... including the stuff I actually needed. I’m not saying I lost anything valuable; just things that I needed to get organized. All of the bags of packing material that hadn’t been moved into the front room were still where I had left them. I just sat down on the floor with a moan and tried to take stock. Why people tell you one thing and then do another, after you’ve re-arranged your schedule to accommodate them, and made plans, and carried heavy boxes in the rain, and everything else ... I am desperately trying to release my anger before saying anything to him. He meant well ... I guess. But ... WTF?
Because of THAT screw-up, I hadn’t picked up my mail. I actually needed the mail because TD Bank was sending me ... something ... having to do with the new account I was forced against my better judgment to open with them. I had populated the account with my business trip refund check – with which I intended to buy a portable air conditioner, because I DIE in here when the temperature soars. When I had a few more bucks, I would start looking at central air options. It’s extremely difficult to get to the UPS mailbox before it closes on weekdays.
Drove to the UPS Seabrook store ... stood outside screaming “WTF???!!!” Sign on the door. Gee golly whiz great gosh awmighty, he was really sorry for the inconvenience but he had decided to close on Saturday, tra-la-la, oh well, tough titties on you, customahs!!! Inconvenience? INCONVENIENCE???!!!??? Fucking prick. Well, that’s UPS for you. Up with the middle finger at everyone who depends on them for things like, OH I DON’T KNOW, checks, bills, information, vitally important things like that.
In a thoroughly foul mood now, I went over to Market Basket. “WTF???” San Pellegrino in glass bottles not the unbreakable ones I use when I carry the bottles to work.
Went looking for mozzarella cheese. “WTF?” Sargento, those faux Italians who try to pretend they know from cheese, had actually printed “CUT FROM THE BLOCK” on their shredded mozzarella cheese. Really. “BLOCK”. Anybody from Italy out there? How often do they sell you real mozzarella cheese in blocks??? Mozzarella cheese doesn’t come in blocks – it comes in balls, Sargento, preserved in liquid to keep it moist. Blocks. WTF?
I came home in high heat, laughing hysterically, unable to buy an air conditioner without my mail, utterly miserable. It was too late in the morning to go to the beach because I’d fry like a lobster – remember last year?
Trying to get ahold of myself, I figured, okay. Since the front room was now cleared of everything else, I would try to` put my dining room table together on the large, newly available floor space. Stood there for about 45 minutes, muttering “WTF?”, as none of the pieces seemed to fit. There was no way the heavy table top could be screwed into the base. I gave up, unhappily. Have no idea how I’m going to get that thing together, and I’m still annoyed at the handyman guy, so don’t even WANT to call him, right now.
Finally, I dragged a long card table into the room; the intent was to set up a seed starter table. I had planned to get it going a long time ago, like March or something, not anticipating that it would take this long to get into the house. Went to open the box of seed starter equipment and materials, and it was stapled so tightly that when I finally was able to pull the ends of the box free, I did it with such force that I literally punched myself in the mouth. Not just a bump. Not a slap. I punched myself in the mouth, staggered backwards with my eyes watering and my upper lip already starting to swell. Couldn’t even pronounce “WTF?” that time.
The next morning, I finally got the seed starter equipment together and went looking for my chest of seeds. This was the fun part – deciding which seeds to start growing, planning where in the new garden they would go, what their requirements were. WTF? No seed chest. In fact, I hadn’t seen it since I moved. I went from room to room, looking in closets, drawers ... this was a gorgeous antique chest, now missing. I had to have packed it somewhere ... didn’t I? But where????
I shuffled over to the storage room in Salisbury in high heat and rifled through the remaining boxes and bins. Nothing. WTF happened to my seed chest???
I went to Lowe’s and bought two larger containers to re-pot the Salvia and North Korean Lilac that had been sitting out back in their original containers. Filled both full of potting soil and repotted the plants. WTF??? One of the containers was lopsided when it was full of potting soil ... and the poor Lilac was poking out of the container at a lopsided angle.
Needless to say, I gave up entirely, came back inside, poured myself a juicy Malbec and got tearfully soused.
WTF indeed.
But at least Il Volo is having a better time of it – presently performing up and down the West Coast (just sold out the Greek Theater a few nights ago), and is still celebrating their Latin Grammy for Best Album.
At least I can be happy for somebody!
Picked up my two suits that had been altered. Gave her some more suits. Have two more to go, but didn’t want to overwhelm her - she’s a nice lady. Russian, I think. Bought gas (I need it: first second-level class on Tuesday night in Salem, NH). Stopped at the roadside stand on 286 that sells local honey – they’re closing for the season, so maybe I’ll stop by today for fresh fruits and vegetables. Needed the local honey to help survive the new local flora pollen I spent last spring sneezing at ... got my annual flu shot last weekend, so I’m not worried about that ... I AM worried about colds, given the number of women spewing spittle, viral venom and germ-infested phlegmy spray all over the trains every day, and discovered honey is a wonderful way to soothe sore throats after my last cold. Had never tried it before.