House of Irony#done

Just to put the final ribbon on this wrap-up; I’m taking a break from loading my car to take a bunch of junk stuff down to my son. With that done, I’ll have just a few bags of possessions in my car. I was able to leave about 4 tubs of items in a friend’s garage.  But what has me laughing at the irony of it all is the pickup truck and trailer full of furniture that I didn’t have when I moved in; that I acquired so that I would have a socially acceptable habitat; and that is now gone.  Done.

House of Irony#3

Time passed and so did most of the smell. But I couldn’t convince myself that it ever totally went away. And then I started hearing noises under the house again. I called the landlord, he called his guy. The only way to get under this part of the house is to pull some interior stairs (just 4 of them). In May, when the first event was mitigated they had done a very good job of sealing behind these stairs, foam boards and foam caulking. It was all shredded. We put in a trap with cat food one night, caught nothing. Then we put cantaloupe in the trap the next night, caught nothing. Crawling under there, they reported there were 3 or 4 tunnels. Their guess; marmots. No telling where the entrances were.

So, they decided to concrete each of those tunnels and proceeded to do that. His guy had also decided to throw mothballs down one of the tunnels  to drive them out. I asked him to remove them. He said too late. Besides, they would just evaporate and go away.

My brother said I should have moved.

So, they finished their work and shoved the stairs back in place; no sealing this time.

And guess what, it started smelling like mothballs inside. Did I mention how poisonous mothballs are? As I was sitting on my bed, my blood pressure rising while I contemplated what action I should now be taking (in other words, whining to myself) I caught a flea trying to bite me. A flea! That’s it, I’m gone. I emailed my landlord that I no longer could live in this hell hole and went out and slept in my car.

Somewhat fortunately I had a trip scheduled and I left for a week. I came back to stay at an Airbnb and then I proceeded to empty out and clean the place. I’m still arguing with the landlord to return my last month’s deposit. In the 8 months I had lived at this place at least 30 days were uninhabitable. Turns out the place was not good for my soul.

House of Irony#2

Cool house, no girl.
Two year lease, no driveabout.
Is that all, you ask?
Some mid winter skunks fired a warning shot. Tolerable.
But then, mid April and Irony reared its head.
Something and a skunk tangled under the house.
It couldn’t have been worse even if you tossed in a dead cat.
My friends told me to quit coming around because my clothes stank.
I left for 3 weeks hoping my landlord could do something about it.
He had a lot of work done to seal off any entrances. I was told that it was pretty bad underneath but no dead bodies.

I came back and it still smelled pretty bad. The landlord assured me enzymes would finish off the reek any time now. I opened all the windows and doors and started fans up. Did I mention it continued to get down to the 30’s though May?
I had to turn the heating off and dress warmly, very warmly. I did catch a break. There was no rain or snow for the week I hauled everything out onto the decks. I had to wash everything. Not quite the right time for spring cleaning.

My older brother, who is always right, told me to leave.
I didn’t.

House of Irony#1

Flash back to last year; I get a girlfriend.
I also had a broken foot and was slumming in my brother’s house awaiting its sale. My new GF lived 40 miles away and I had disposed of most of my possessions because, remember again, I was going on a Driveabout.

So, as soon as I was at all mobile, I could be and I wanted to be closer to my new heart, so I did. She liked this really cool part of town not far from her place so I targeted that area And since my Year of Therapy had not officially started yet, I made a mistake. I got a small furnished apartment on the third floor of an old converted mansion. Let’s just say it was the attic version of the basement. But it got me close to her; and also got me walking in an urban area.

But it did not get me a place she would visit. Awkward on the relationship.

With improvement in my self awareness came the realization of my mistake. After the expiration of my 6 month lease I started looking around for a new place. A place that would celebrate me, my soul and be a cool place to hang out. I was nearly overwhelmed with variations on how to pull this off. Rent, buy, where, how much, etc.

Then I found this cool little quirky bungalow on the river. It had lots of windows, light and wood. It should be great inspiration for a budding artist. It also cost a lot more than I was budgeting. But this was about feeding my soul and impressing my girlfriend. I signed a two year lease. (Irony alert: Driveabout, not happening now).

And before I was completely moved in, we broke up.

p.s. I now know why guys like basements. Not as many windows to clean.

philosophyon-line dating#11

Like a magnet, irony sticks to me.
The starting premise of this blog was that on-line dating mystified me (along with life) and I was going to start traveling and learning. So, just a little ahead of the times, I jettisoned most of my belongings (irony alert) and readied myself to AirBnB across the country.

And instead of that adventure, I broke my driving foot and found a girlfriend.

In my yearbook, I have now labeled 2018 as my Year of Therapy.
Yes, in my past, I had considered therapy as a sign of weakness.
That superior attitude certainly did not prevent my BM (Big Meltdown).
So, ironically, guess what my new found girlfriend does? Yes, she is a therapist.

One thing you can say about me is I’m honest and brave. And stupid.
Anything she asked me I tried to answer.
There were a lot of questions.
And a few tears.

When I started out our relationship I probably had the EQ of a snail. However, I was already writing poetry so let’s just call me an idiot savant. By the time we broke up at the end of the year (yes, on her birthday) I had raised my EQ a lot and you could now just call me an idiot.

Road Trip#1 – Part 4

Fine, for that I’ll be leaving California. We head back through Tonopah and turn south for Las Vegas. Neither of us cares to stay there so we turn north for a little distraction at Valley of Fire State Park. Passing Lost City Museum we decide to stop. These little museums, out in small towns, usually haven’t caught my attention. But that is unkind. There are always stories to tell, some are larger and some are smaller and all of them take the effort of people willing to share. This museum covers the history of the local peoples, which dates back further than I expected. We are impressed with the presentation. Highly recommended, but maybe not in July.

Into Valley of Fire. If you haven’t been rock hopping in southern Utah or Northern Arizona then this is an impressive park. And it is a very interesting park, until you throw in the tourists. I know, I know, they don’t speak English well so signs like “Stay on Path” and “Stay off rocks” don’t mean much to them but it hurts. The desert is actually quite fragile and does not recover quickly, if at all. I’m bummed and want to leave. She’s accepting and we start to head out. Then I notice the full moon and start looking for favorable compositions. Finding what I think will work we park and wait. We talk to a couple of ladies from Germany for a while with the conversation eventually coming around to why we are waiting there. They decide to wait longer. Finally the moon does rise enough to get the shots I want. I scramble around on some rocks (that have no signs) and eventually also in the road. No, no sex, but little traffic. With enough bytes recorded it is time to leave. While I was shooting I had noticed an older Asian gentleman stop and take some pictures of the ridge we were looking at. It was pretty with the setting sun, but I could tell he didn’t have the right angle to catch the moon rising (a much better shot). He then got in his car and starts to go past us. I (carefully) flag him down. I could tell he was flustered for a moment but I simply point to the sky, he looks, pulls over and was himself soon in the middle of the road. I felt better.

And possibly in apology, just before we hop back on the Interstate, there are fireworks going off behind us. We stop and watch.

It is back through Las Vegas for us, but no stops. Our choice of spending our hard earned money is not consistent with this town’s. No matter. We quickly come to the realization that our Rand McNally is aging and may not be the reliable partner it once was. I am driving on the I11. The I11? It isn’t on my map and wasn’t here the last time I was through. Ah, but progress marches on and leaves memories in its wake. I remember when you drove over the top of Hoover Dam. My dad remembers when it wasn’t even there. My kids, I wonder what they will remember?

It is time to find the next green dotted road. As we enter Kingman we could jump on the I40 and speed into our future. Instead we jump on Route 66 and speed into the past. What a hoot. Windows down, it would be a great time for a convertible, we cruise the 50’s and 60’s. Past year’s detritus is scattered endlessly along the shoulder of this road. And rummaging around in it are tour busses disgorging endless curious interlopers. We drift through.

We continue to follow the green dots. Seligman offers a chance to jump on the interstate, but not for long. At Williams we can turn north and we do. It is time to visit the South Rim. And if you have to ask, that means the Grand Canyon. And if you aren’t impressed then you are probably from Mars. This green dotted road ends in Tusayan, sort of. You can park in the park, but I don’t recommend it. Yes, it is crowded. It is far easier to park in town and catch one of the shuttle busses into the park. They have set up a really good system. Much easier. And it is easy to spend many hours wandering the rim, taking trails down and back up. I am also anticipating trying to catch the full moon in this wonderful setting. Finally, sitting, waiting, talking with the crowds; she rises. Very impressive to be there, but I’m not sure the pictures will do justice. Back to town; avoid the elk browsing, grab a bite to eat and we are again cruising.

To our final destination, Tucson. We did return, but that is another story.