There is Nothing to Report

Seriously. No one was here doing work on the house this week. Unless you count me. Curtain rods and “window treatments” were hung (they’ll never make Better Homes & Gardens as selections, but it keeps the sun and cold out, so WTF?), some art got framed, closet organizers were bought and nearly installed, and some touch up painting got done. Shower curtain, rugs and towels were put in place, window hardware was chased down and installed.

Then there’s the “heating system” aka: Wood stove. It’s working like a champ, tiny and squirrely though it may be. Every day after school I was digging through the scrap lumber pile behind the house, hand selecting the chunks, lengths and kindling that were to be transported into the garage to face the saw.

Yes, everyone, me and a circular saw! The chainsaw won’t be in use until I finish the scrap pile and head over to the leftover timbers and trusses, for they are fairly formidable and way too cumbersome to deal with while I have a pile of scrap as tall as me and twice my height wide. Flying sawdust follows me inside twice a night. The wood stove may be small, but it has a hunger that burns!

My main goal was to get the closet organized and filled, but one look at the cement floor and my feet got cold at the thought of stepping on frigid cement in the mornings, so I’ve now added to my list the great joy that is tiling. Bummer--more tools to buy. Maybe I’ll have it done before the last of the workmen come to finish what needs finishing in the house on Weds. Maybe not. Probably, though.

And maybe I’ll finally get that one last damn doorknob and install it this week, too. The hole in the door that leads to the garage lets in a hell of a lot of cold air, but nothing that cammo colored duct tape didn’t fix. I’m just trying to get to the end here, folks. If duct tape and plastic sheeting are good enough for our government to recommend for protection against ‘dirty bombs’, then by gum, it’s good enough for my house.

Got the fridge Saturday. It took seven hours, round trip. That’s what happens when you pile up your running-around-Albuquerque stuff. Then I extended my evening until early morning by volunteering to go with one of my friends to the casino. WTF? Why not? It’s not like I’ve got an active social life or anything. Besides, casinos are fun. And so is my friend, Kenda. Heck, if she’s gonna help me haul a fridge from Lowe’s all the way into the garage, then why shouldn’t I go gambling with her? Fair’s fair, right?

Kenda found a penny slot machine with the theme of home construction on it and told me that it was calling out for me. Had I have been in a fouler mood I might have struck her. But it seemed fitting, and I sure could use some more schooling in that area, so, I fed it a $20 and the next thing ya know, I was getting 13,000 credits. Yup! 130 bucks. I hit 100 bucks on a quarter slot. We almost tried playing roulette; spinning wheel roulette, not Russian.

The casino was packed, and the tables full, so we bagged it for a slower time so as not to embarrass ourselves too badly in front of so many. There was also the added humiliation of losing our chips in front of a poor old guy, like 100+ year old guy, all bent over in his wheelchair with a diaper on his chest to catch his drool. I told Kenda that in the old days there would’ve been a drool bucket under his chin, but Pampers seems so much more sensible. Modern conveniences. I couldn’t tell if the old guy was having a good time or not—I didn’t want to stare.

Kenda and I walked out with more money than we walked in with. OK—I walked out with more money than I walked in with, but we both still had a great time. I sure hope Kenda don’t get in trouble for being out so late.

I’ve been promised a new dog. His name is Hudson. He’s a hairy wiener dog. More to the point, he’s a hairy wiener pirate dog; he’s blind in one eye. Yawr! He’s with the mom of the woman who rescued him from MN (and I DO mean rescued from MN, though he’s still in MN, so the rescue isn’t quite complete yet.) Here’s the pics that melted my heart when they were emailed to me. How/Why could/would I say no to a face like that? Exactly! Which is why I said yes! I’ll keep you updated on Hudson.

To update y’all on the commenter to the blog that I told you about last time—the commenter is indeed real. I told Neighbor Donna about the situation and she mentioned it to Red, the ranch hand that’s up this way nearly every day. He confirmed that the rancher has an adult child with that name, but has no idea why the commenter would day what was said. Red said that “they” have no gripes with me, and will mention it at the next meeting with Weldon, the rancher.

Red also said that the crimes that were suggested done by me did indeed happen—decades ago. Even before Red began working for Weldon, so Red was confused why those particular events were even mentioned. Red thinks I should find her number and call her. It’s on my list of things to do. Like…

manana.