I am a Sucker

I don't much care for sayings on my t-shirts, but at times I feel I have one saying , and in big print,
"SUCKER"
The unlovable mutts that share my house have figured it out a long time ago. However bad they are, and they can be bad, at the end of the day there is always a bowl of food and a place to snooze, oftentimes to the discomfort of this person.
The resident rodents have figured it out. They know I have a hard time killing them, so they reward me by eating holes in my bags of legumes and my t-shirts and undies and, the latest, peeing on the satellite receiver so it has corroded and lost its signal.
And now the cat that has appeared and that I was hoping would keep the rodent population in check, has decided that the food that I leave out for it is fine, but better yet is stuff that is not meant for feline consumption. But HEY, what is the sucker going to do ? They all have me figured out, so maybe a t-shirt with "SUCKER" is just redundant.
They already know.

I am depressed, I am. In a funk. A deep funk.
And why? you might ask.
Well, where to start.
Maybe the endless saga of the pictureless television where the cause was diagnosed as a case of corrosion in the box. And hence my problem as I am the proprietor of said box and therefore the one to get it, if possible, fixed.
Or maybe the fact that this morning as I stumbled out in the kitchen to start the coffee and open the door to the bodega, that door fell off its hinges. Kaboom, and there it was, in my hands with no support at all. Now it is leaning against the wall and giving no protection for the rain.
Or maybe the fact that even when I scream and cajole the mutts to go out at night before we retire to do their business, they mostly refuse if it is wet outside, and then I find turds all over the house in the morning. Blast them.
Or maybe the fact that when I rushed to town this morning to buy cheap wine and doggie biscuits--I got the wine, the biscuits have disappeared from the shelves of the supermarkets--and found on my return that one of the dogs had shat in my bedroom and another ( or the same ) had made a puddle on Chuck's bed, seeping through the cover and the mattress cover and the blanket that I keep there and making a big and nasty stain on the mattress
or the fact that I ignore the basics of security and leave doors open for the stupid mutts to go out if they need to, and they reward me with piles of shit all over the house
or maybe because I had to clamber up and check my water supply and, since it was low, very low, crossing my fingers and turning the pump on ( it has been known to not start ) but it did and then clambering up the ladder again to check the progress of filling the tank.
All this clambering is not at all good for a gent of a certain age.
No matter.
I am in a funk, and at two in the afternoon I said, enough, I am going to open a carton of wine, and that is what I did.
It is almost empty now, and I don't feel any better.
What next ?

I try to keep a sunny attitude. I do. I really do.
I often close my eyes and click my heels and whisper : There is no place like home...there is no place like home.
And then the reality strikes.
Apart from the problems of the blank television screen, which today was diagnosed as a problem with the box, the receiver, I had an unpleasant experience when this morning I tried to open the door to the bodega and it fell off its hinges.
The telly problem can be solved, at a price, and I have started to work on that. The door is a more complex deal because some time ago, noticing that the top hinges were pulling loose, I asked Rey to help me refasten them. He suggested to replace the door with a new one, an iron door , strong and not subject to weather the way a wooden door is.
And I gave him the measures, as he suggested, to take to his work where there just happened to be a person doing this kind of work. And that was it. Rey has not been back since and I have not heard from the maker of doors and now I have no door to keep out the rain.
But I try to keep a sunny attitude. Tomorrow I will go down to the village and see if the local ironmonger will give an estimate.
Tomorrow.

My TV set lost its picture; not the sound, and not the banners running top and bottom of the screen showing the time and channel number and name of the show provided by the satellite company, all that was intact, just no picture.
I did all I knew how to : turn the set off and on. And still nothing
But it would play DVDs, which was how I entertained myself while I was searching for a new, reasonably priced set.
After weeks of search and rejecting the over priced and snazzy flat screen sets, I found in a corner of my super market a few of what must be the last of the "regular" television sets, and I bought one and hauled it home and frantically exchanged the old for this new and virginal, however slightly clunky, set.
And I had sound and banners and absolutely NO picture.
But I can play DVDs on it.
I have come a complete circle and accomplished absolutely nothing.
Oh; as I was installing the new set I had the old one sitting on the couch from where it took a dive and hit the floor. What more ?

How do people take photos with the new digital cameras ?
Every time I grab mine to take a shot of something wonderful, it is low or out of batteries.
Always.
Is there a way to circumvent this ? Like always keep recharging the thing. Or what ?
Today some prehistoric monster insect is sitting on the pillow on the couch where I normally sit at night when watching the telly. It is so awesomely ugly and big that I wanted a record of it.
But the camera is low on batteries, so no photo.
Now nobody is going to believe me when I talk about this monster insect, because I have no proof.
It makes a good story anyway, if only I had somebody to tell it to.
You.

The Pastries

The first studio First Chamber had in Seattle was a converted factory located in a seedy part of town.
Within easy walking distance I discovered a real Danish bakery, run by real Danes and making real Danish pastries.
Oh the joy...
and if you hit it at the right time, just when the pastries came out of the oven, there would be nothing closer to rapture.
One day on a break I hit the magic moment and decided to be generous and buy pastries for my hard working friends at the studio.
The pastry was so hot they had to punch holes in the pink box I was given with the lot.
And on my way I allowed myself a taste, and another.....and another
so when I was a few blocks from the studio I realized I did not have enough left to share with my friends....
and ate the last ones too.
AH, the guilt, but somehow I got over it real fast.
I don't recall if I ever told my friends about the pastries.

Some day are easier than others. On the not so easy days, I seem to be imbibing a bit more than usual.
But what, I wonder, what makes a day an easy one or a not so easy one ?
One factor I have learned that is part of the equation, is the behavior of the Worthless Ones.
When they decide that the poor, unsuspecting person passing by my the house is a threat or at best a nuisance, they will all, as one, start to bark and run out in the street, chasing the poor fellow.
Or fellowin (f), as they don't seem to have any preference for either sex.
And then, after screaming at them, threatening them with early and painful euthanasia, I grab the proverbial bottle which, in my case, is a carton, and I drink.
So that is a bad day; thanks to the Worthless Ones.
But it keeps makers of cheap and tasteless wine in business.

I thought I would write about an amusing incident that happened when Nicholas, my neighbor, returned after two months in the UK visiting with his family, and I stopped by to give back the keys to his house that I had been checking for him and the accounting of the bills I had been paying for him.
He thanked me and then I saw a light flicker in his eyes when the realization hit him, that a present might have been appropriate.
And he rushed to his bedroom and came back with a tin of shortbread cookies and a tin of tea bags, four flavors.
I was amused and I wondered why I knew what was going through his head when it dawned on me : This was me too. At times when Rey would show up on a Sunday to help with chores around the house, I would be in the same dilemma. To show my appreciation with money was out of the question; that would be an insult to our friendship, so I, like Nicholas, had to find things that would show how grateful I was for his help. Luckily the Bennetts have supplied me every Christmas with bags and bags of chocolate goodies and this was what I used to give to Rey.
Realizing this, the incident was not that funny anymore, so I decided not to write about it.

There I was, upstairs, cleaning up after the Worthless Ones who have decided that they prefer indoor facilities and therefore regard certain parts of the house as their private toilet, when Toby walked in, sniffed at the-- to him--delicious flavor of doggie excrement, lifted his leg and peed on the floor.
TOBY....my boy, my last bastion in the futile fight for canine training, the one who never, ever before would dream of going to the bathroom inside.
There he was, peeing inside, and all because of the Worthless Ones and their unsavory habits.
I am devastated now; all my theories about breeding and training have gone out the window. All it takes is a house full of untrained mutts and even the best of dogs will succumb.
Sad and ever so like humans.

Theory of relativity

I am not totally sure what the theory of relativity is all about, well no, to tell the truth, I have not the foggiest notion.
But in my world, in this little enclave of lush greenery compleat with an astounding array of creepy crawlies and mentally challenged canines, the relativity is this:
relative to the amount of bad news on the computer and amount of barking and screaming by the resident canines, is the amount of cheap wine to be consumed.
Add to the equation the number of non-functioning electronics, starting with but not exclusive to, the TV, and you have another part of the problem.
So the more bad news, more screaming mutts and more dead electronics, the more the imbibing of cheap wine.
I am no Einstein but I'll say this is pretty cool. Even if it is written after a certain amount of cheap wine.
It wouldn't have been any better had the wine been expensive.