Welcome to Saturday evening. It is past 11pm. I really should turn in soon. It has been a busy day.
We got up around 9:30. The sound of a lawn mower outside the window got me up more than Newbie's insistence on being fed did. I have hired a boy down the street to mow my lawn as I just can't be bothered to do it any more. He supplies the lawn mower and the grass trimmer. I give him a certain amount of money. He's happy. I'm happy.
Anyway, we got up and as per our plans, drove to the Valley to spend the day. We dropped off an old television at a recycling place 10 seconds before the place would have closed and we would have missed out on the opportunity to be free of the thing. Literally, the guy was putting the key in the lock to shut the place for the weekend when we showed up. He opened the place up for us, and even carried the tv in for us. The half hour it took me to roll the tv up the stairs and lug it out to the car was galling for me when I saw him carry it away in 5 seconds. I am not getting old. Nope. Never.
From there, we had lunch at one of the many Chinese restaurants in New Minas. We went to my mother's house after that and killed 45 minutes or so until we drove back to New Minas, there to see "The Heat", starring Sandra Bullock and Melissa McCarthy. Funniest movie I have seen in a long time. Go see it.
We visited Mom after that, arriving just as she was finishing dinner. We delivered a stand up fan to her. She wanted to have the fan but didn't really come out and ask for it. She said she didn't want it 6 or 7 times, which is a reverse psychology way of saying she did want it. She had kept stating that her room wasn't that hot, which is her way of saying it was stifling. Never mind what she means when she says she doesn't have to use the bathroom.
At any rate, she has the fan in her room now. That, combined with the open window and the open door, should make the room quite comfortable for her. Of course, she will confirm that with me by complaining about how uncomfortable the room is for her and how much she hates it there.
A funny story about the fan. Even though she didn't want it, she did, but she really is worried that the handyman guy who works at the assisted living centre will balk at her having it in her room. There is an urban legend that he will only permit such items in clients' rooms if they have CSA stickers on them. The items, not the clients. She made me tell the on-duty nurse that there was a fan in Mom's room. The nurse looked at me as if I had a pair of testicles hanging from my throat like Hugh Jackman does in "Movie 43", and said she didn't care. Mom will be sure to tell the handyman guy that the fan is there, thinking she will be in trouble. As I told her, it is easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission. She laughed as she had never heard that expression before, but then re-developed the apprehensive look on her visage, praying that the fan brought over from the house would pass muster with the handyman guy, who only has 49 other clients to take care of and who won't even notice the fan is there unless Mom brings it to his attention. This is the same woman who would take a few extra paper napkins and furtively stuff them in her purse when we went to a restaurant, thinking she was making a massive theft from the private business. She respects authority a little too much. We do not have that in common.
Anyway, we got back to Mom's and got our things before driving to Wolfville, picking up some vegetation at the Stirling's farm stand, and having a cold beverage at the Just Us! on the main drag. The caffeine sustained me enough to do the drive home.
I have spent the last couple of hours here in my home office, doing computer stuff. The hours fly by when I am down here. Simple tasks take forever, as if I were walking through amber (not the person I work with; actual amber). Patricia, if she is still up when I return to the main level, will look at her wrist, pretending there is a watch on it, and wonder what I was doing down here so long. I will reply that I was listening to "Randy's Vinyl Tap" and "Saturday Night Blues" on CBC radio while doing computer stuff that I won't be able to tell her about. Not because it was that difficult. Just because I won't remember what it was that took so bloody long. She will stamp her foot while continuing to regard the freckles on her wrist and make me feel like crap for being away from her for so long. Sorry!
I may as well kill the next 15 minutes. They're interviewing Bonnie Raitt on CBC radio. But I have nothing else to write about.
Dum de dum de dum.
5 minutes pass.
Where is Newbie, anyway? He came downstairs with me. He must be here somewhere, but he is not in the home office with me. He still likes to curl up like a pretzel in the little cardboard box on top of this computer desk, but he is not there now. Meanwhile, Bonnie Raitt is talking about the sexual tension between her and John Lee Hooker when they recorded together recently. I grant you that John Lee Hooker is a fine, fine looking man for 61 years old. They do a song together called "I'm In The Mood", which apparently has nothing to do with those little rings you used to wear in the 1970's, but rather how she is in the mood for love. That is a mental image I did not need at this hour of the night.
11:56. Show is nearly over. The song is still going on. I wish she and Hooker Junior would just get a room and write a song about that process. She remains in the mood for some of his love. Only some? Why not all? Isn't that what women want? All of it? Plus half your assets upon dissolution of the relationship?
Song is over. Holger is going on about the 2 Blues music channels which you can find here.
11:59. Show is over. Time to go to bed.
See you tomorrow.