Apples and Oranges

 Well hell.

I just tried again to use Instacart (they do a great job, BTW) to have fresh fruit delivered. No dice. Price Chopper (a local grocery chain) will not drive 3.9 miles to deliver to the home, even though I was tipping $10 on a $21.43 order. What else would I spend my money on? Girls in the home?

Price Chopper does not actually deliver anything. It is done by local drivers. No one in the Greenwich/Argyle area needs work? While the money cannot be great, it is better than nothing. I'd do it if I still drove. Make myself a few bucks and provide a needed service to the elderly and handicapped.

I guess there is no work ethic anymore. Or fun ethic.

I'm Ornery

I was taught a valuable lesson as a young guy many years ago. Remember the Golden Rule. Those with the gold rule.

In this case, the gold is your book, not your agent. There is only this one book, written by you. But there are hundreds of editors and publishers. You can now even self-publish, as I do, and bypass that whole nasty mess.

I am an ornery cuss. I don't play well with others. I wrote my book the way I did for a reason, and I don't want an editor telling me to change it. So what do I need an editor for? I don't. And I suspect in this age of self-publishing, more and more writers feel the same way.

I went your route with the first book I wrote. It was good, I thought. Very good. Editors shot me down, one by one. But I had the last laugh. i self-published it, and in its first month, it was on Amazon's best seller list. 

Gettin' Groceries

 I need to get to $35 to get free delivery from Price Chopper through Instacart. They don't deliver here, but I'm bored and putting together a cart just in case they change their minds. After all, yesterday I sent Price Chopper a message about this problem. I imagine the corporate guys are running around their Manhatten penthouse office in panic mode, even now in the middle of the night.

I put in the things I need into the cart. $0. I don't need anything so I actually didn't put in anything. Pay attention.

Then I put in the things I like that the home doesn't have. Apples, oranges, bananas, and grapes. That got me to $13. I am NOT paying a $5 delivery fee for $13 worth of food.

So I put in some things I rarely buy. Dr. Pepper, air freshener (for my roommate should I get one), I'm at $21.43. I need $13.57 more.

I need to do this. I am NOT paying $5 for the honor of buying groceries. What else should I buy? I still have ginger ale in stock.

I'd buy beer but the home doesn't allow it blah blah blah.

I need to find more things that I need. Any idea?

Cold Meals in the Home

 12:45 PM. Lunch arrived. It was cold, but I was hungry, so I pushed my button. To her credit, the aide showed up right away.

"What do you need?" She asked.

"My lunch is cold," I said nicelygggggggggggggggggggggggggggwhile pointing to my hamburger so there was no confusion. "Would you heat it up?"

"Give me two minutes," she said as she walked out of the room.

Then another aide walked in and took all of my unused hangers from my closet.

"I'm out," he said as he left. He was doing laundry.

"I bought those," i said. To add insult to injury, no aide has picked up my laundry in a week.

He chuckled as he left.

1:10 PM. No aide came to reheat my lunch. Well, they're busy.

1:25. An aide came in and took my untouched food tray, along with my coffee.

1:30. A new aide brought me coffee.

"I love you," I said as she was leaving.

"I love you!" I said.

No lunch, but I got a lukewarm coffee. Life is good. But if dinner sucks, I'm ordering out.

1:45. I rang for an aide to get my customary second cup of coffee. This should be good.

1:55. The aide came in and asked what I want. A cup of coffee, I said. Sorry, we're out, she said. You waited too long.

Photography Subjects in the Home

 Many of you know that I am an author. Writing is one of the arts. Wikipedia, that irrefutable bastion of truth, defines the arts as...

"The arts refers to the theory, human application and physical expression of creativity found in human cultures and societies through skills and imagination in order to produce objects, environments and experiences. Major constituents of the arts include visual arts (including architecture, ceramics, drawing, filmmaking, painting, photography, and sculpting), literary arts (including fiction, drama, poetry, and prose), performing arts (including dance, music, and theatre), and culinary arts (including cooking, chocolate making and winemaking)."

I've hit two of the arts, namely visual (photography) and literary (fiction. Where is nonfiction??). Writing is definitely the most difficult, which is why photography is my favorite.

Being in "the home", I don't have many opportunities for good subjects. I also don't have my Nikon. Only my phone's camera. So this is the best I could manage.

The following photo shows my solution to a window shade that won't stay up. I braced it with my cane. I'm a genius.

Valentine's Day in Savannah

 One nice thing about Isle of Hope Marina in Savannah is that they have a couple of free loaner cars. Tuesday being Valentine's Day, I reserved one of the cars to take Pam out for a nice Valentine's Day dinner at Pearl's Saltwater Grille.

Our loaner was a Honda Odyssey. Needless to say, these cars aren't always in top shape. The driver's side sliding door had a tag on it saying not to use it. No problem, we didn't need to use it since there was only the two of us. I walked Pam to the passenger door to do the gentlemanly thing and open it for her. It was unlocked.

Wow, you'd never do that in Stamford!

You can tell that we're really in the deep south now, where people probably don't lock their houses up either.

We drove the 1.4 miles to Pearl's Saltwater Grille. As we left the Odyssey, I locked it anyway, even though we're in the deep south. Force of habit from living in the northeast, I guess. Pearl's was busy and the parking lot was packed. It's a large place though, which was a good thing that night. Everyone was taking their honey out.

We had a very nice, romantic dinner at Pearl's and afterward walked out into the parking lot in the warm Georgia night. I love the south. We got to the Odyssey and I walked Pam to the passenger door. It was very dark, so I opened my cell phone to shine it on the lock. There wasn't one. How can there not be a lock on the passenger door? Weird. So I walked around to the driver's door, shined the cell phone on it and... the key didn't fit in the lock. What? If a beater loaner car has a problem with a broken lock, the marina should put a sign on the dashboard or something so people know. Now what are we going to do? We're a mile and a half from the marina, so I guess we could walk, but really, the marina should have let us know that the lock was broken.

Meanwhile, Pam tried the passenger door, which was locked too. She then tired the passenger side sliding door and it opened. YES! She then unlocked the passenger door, hopped in, and unlocked the driver's door. I got in and when I tried to insert the key into the ignition switch, it wouldn't go in either. We drove it here, so it fit then, why doesn't it fit now? Huh.. there's a baby seat in the back. That's a nice touch by the marina, but I don't think too many cruisers have infants. I don't remember seeing that when we got in... and where did this water bottle come fr....

THIS ISN'T OUR CAR! OUT QUICK!

So then we got in OUR Honda Odyssey which was right next to that one and got out of there fast.

For the record, Pam laughed so hard that she pee'd her pants.

My Room is Haunted

 My room is haunted.

Everyday, around 3 PM as I'm sitting in my comfy recliner/hospital bed with my feet up watching TV, someone kicks my left foot.

In the morning when I wake up, my room is changed. The window shade has been pulled up or down. The cracked open window is closed. The TV channel is changed. Little stuff like that.

It is either the ghost of some creepy guy who died here and hasn't gone to the light, or I do it and just forget.

My room is haunted

Roommates and Bathrooms

 5:30 AM. Richard gets up to use the bathroom. The deaf bastard is like a herd of elephants, making so much noise that he wakes me up.

He goes back to bed. Well, thanks to the power of suggestion, now I have to go. As I leave the bathroom, I must pass Richard's bed. I know he must be still awake.

"Richard!" I say loudly. He's a deaf bastard, especially when he wants to be.

"Richard!".

"Huh a9oi4 joijehj oeio" he responds. Being deaf sometimes means having a speech impediment. Or the ability to channel alien languages.

"Richard, you pissed all over the floor."

"I did? Koej0ijh iojoD OOEOHALjoj."

"If you have a short bat, stand closer to the plate," I answer.

"Oejoj ojoee mcle ke ooHJD".

Well, I'm glad that's settled. I hope I wasn't too rough on him.