So my not old enough to be doing this refrigerator is acting up. Thank goodness we have a second one I can use. Yeah, we have two.
Mainly because the minuscule space his parents allotted for a refrigerator when they (cough, cough) ‘designed’ the kitchen only allows for a small one with little space in it.
We were given a fairly new white one when a neighbor moved away that fit actually in the space. It looked better than the old coppertone one we had. We moved the old one to the back porch and put the ‘new’ white one in its place. One problem, the new one given to us died about a year later. We decided to buy another white one rather than drag the coppertone one back inside.
Not long ago, we bought another ‘second’ refrigerator after our ancient one on the back porch died. We were used to having two by then. The new one went on the back porch because we had no size constraints on what we could put there.
So here goes…the one inside is slightly older than the one on the back porch but both are not old. Right now, the one on the back porch is jammed full because the one in the kitchen is acting weird.
We emptied it and unplugged it for a while hoping that maybe a compressor froze up. We’ll see if it stays cold for a couple of days, then I’ll move things back.
Usually at this time of year I am making a lot of soups, stews, and other tasty cool weather meals.
We’ve had temperatures in the mid 80s the last couple days.
Neither one of us wants those cool weather meals.
What say you?
The Curmudgeon is more comfortable and so is Lucy. In fact, she’s downright happy over the cooler weather.
We turned off the AC and it got chilly enough that I had to go around and close the windows.
I do believe your staff is under trained. I keep hearing about how so many of your staff will ignore a woman who is shopping only to ask a nearby male (adult, teen, or whatever) if they need help.
Believe me, when I am shopping with my husband in tow, he’s there merely for pretty. I do the work around here or I hire someone to do it.
This is not the 1950s.
Women do electrical work, plumbing, dry walling, tile setting, and any other job a man can do.
More women do yard and home repair work than ever before mainly because we’re our husband’s caregivers, we’re single mothers, we are widows. We outlive our men.
Train your staff. teach them that a woman will spend as much or more in the store as a man especially when treated like an equal and not like a 1950s trophy wife.
Also remember that women talk about places that treat us like second class citizens. We tend to avoid those businesses and tell our friends to avoid them too.
Me and every other woman who is tired of this crap.
The temperature climbed past 90 degrees. The Curmudgeon, like a damned fool, went out to check his truck after the incident with the DB.
Only a few minutes in the driveway resulted in him struggling to get back in the house and spending the rest of the day in a very weakened condition.
I hate MS.
The Curmudgeon’s shirt for the day
Yes, a neighbor banged on our door to tell us there was a dead body in our driveway.
This was not a Halloween type prank. There really was a dead human being in our driveway.
She was about 30 years old. She had blond hair.
According to sources in the police department, they believe she was with her husband when she collapsed from a drug overdose. He took off and left her there.
Drug addicts more often think of themselves and what would happen if they called for help and were found stoned. They do not think that maybe if they call for help the person who is dying could be helped.
So we watched the long, slow process of them collecting evidence, taking pictures, and measurements, and doing all the things they need to do before they could take her away.
The Curmudgeon stayed out on the porch for as long as he could but had to go inside because the heat was getting to him.
We talked about how sad it was. How frightening to happen here in our neighborhood. Worse, how we heard nothing. How he never stopped to ask for help for her.
Police tape kept the crowds at a distance. Hopefully, enough to give her some dignity. After all she is human and does deserve some dignity.
Cop cars leaving
It is extremely important that I get out of the house once in a while.
So G and I went on an outing to Target. The Curmudgeon wanted a DVD (Wonder Woman), I needed more Flonase and Claritin, and G and I needed to go out to lunch.
We met a nice gal our age in Target and spent quite a bit of time engaging her in a lively conversation. It was fun.
After Target we went to Applebees for lunch. We had a lovely lunch combo of fire roasted chicken salad wraps and Thai salads.
Now I get to spend the rest of the week shut in with The Curmudgeon.
After a diagnosis of strep throat.
Like the very next day.
I had what they are calling reactive airway disease with wheezing.
In other words…I couldn’t freaking breathe…I was moving no air through my lungs.
And I was scared silly.
Therefore I am armed with a rescue inhaler, am on antibiotics for the strep, and a tapering dose of prednisone.
Lucy has taken it upon herself to tell me I need my inhaler when I start wheezing and coughing in my sleep.
2 puffs every 4 hours. Yep, she has it down pretty well.
We have The Curmudgeon’s appointments out of the way.
His are a logistics nightmare. Making sure he is ready to go an hour before the appointment because he will invariably have to find at least ten things to do when we should be walking out the door. Then getting him to the van and loading him and his rollator into it.
Making sure I have all the paperwork he needs to have on hand to fill out all the paperwork they want filled out–yeah, paperless my Aunt Fanny.
Seems every single time we go to any of his doctors they have a mountain of paper work for him to fill out. Well, he can’t see that well and his writing is unreadable so can you guess who gets to fill everything out?
I often question the line “are you afraid of being hurt?”
If the caregiver is the one filling out the form and if they are abusive… how would they answer that one?
Must be the mystery writer in me.
I’m not making light of the importance of that question just the fact that I see so many caregivers are the ones filling out the questionnaires. Maybe they should have a couple of designated questionnaire writers for impaired patients because having the possible abuser filling them out defeats the purpose of the question.
Besides, I am so tired of filling those things out that I want to scream when they hand me a stack of papers.
Next appointment is mine. I go alone. I take my kindle. I am ready in plenty of time. I relax.
My newest Tee
Night time temperatures down to the low fifties.
Having to actually close windows here and there.
Thinking about soups and stews for dinners.
Dreading the piles of leaves to come.
Wishing winter would hold off and be short and mild. Hearing all sorts of forecasts of a nasty winter to come. Not happy.
At least it is good sleeping weather.
Sadly, the federal government is preparing to cut money that would help the people of Texas in rebuilding their lives.
Instead, the idiot in chief and his cronies will be stripping FEMA of funds along with wherever else they can pillage to build that stupid wall and give billionaires more tax breaks.
I think it’s time to get a passport update and get out of here.
I need to convince Lucy that going upstairs doesn’t always mean it’s bath time. Yeah, she hates them.
I want her to get used to sleeping upstairs with me instead of on the couch with me.
I am dying to get back to using my bed again. It’s been two years since I slept in my own bed due to The Curmudgeon and also Gavin’s ill health at the end.
Problem is, now she’s so used to sleeping on the couch with me she won’t sleep in her crate at night. So I’d just as soon get her to sleep on the bed with me if I can get her past the dreaded bath.