July 10-11

Saturday, July 10

The basement appears to be completely cleaned.  The cleaners left four dehumidifiers in the basement to dry it all out.  They were smart and professional enough to run long extension cords to plug ins upstairs so that no single fuse would be overburdened and tripped off.  It’s a little noisy, but not too bad. It’s miraculous to me that a mess as absolutely horrific as that mess was is already dealt with.  It occupied my attention for most of the week, but, other than the incident with the maggots, I think I handled it pretty well.

I asked Kevin, the head guy at Service Master, to email me the pictures they took of the mess.  They are already sending them to the insurance agency, so all they have to do is CC me.  I want to have them for my records.  He said he would.

Today, I caught up with my DW entries, discovered I was banned from Facebook for 30 days for a ridiculous reason, spent nearly an hour writing up a protest to the ban (which can be read in my previous entry), and warmed up a piece of the steak I had made the other day—I turned it into a steak sandwich. 

Lily’s son Roger was supposed to be here by supper time tonight.  She had asked him to call her when he left so she would know when to get supper going so it was ready when he arrived.  He never called and never called.  She figured his foul wife was keeping him busy with 8 million little tasks that he HAD to do before he could go.  That woman is truly a bitch.  She is the one who pretended to have a seizure at my uncle’s funeral to prevent Roger from going to the cemetery to see his father’s coffin put into the ground.  She pitches such vitriolic temper tantrums that everyone is terrified of her.  All it would take is for ONE person to stand up to her nonsense and not let her get away with it, but she has been allowed to rave like a lunatic all her life. 

Anyhow, Lily finally got a call from Roger at about 7 pm, long after she expected him to arrive, telling her that he was on his way to his own home and that it would take him about an hour to clean up, pack his bag, and load his stuff and the cat into the car before he headed to Minnesota.  He lives about five hours away in Wisconsin.  She called me, devastated, as she had hoped to have him help her with a lot of paperwork and stuff that she doesn’t understand.  She will get nothing done with him tonight as he will be exhausted when he arrives.

He will mow her lawn tomorrow which will take at least two hours.  Then she wants him to go through some of his dad’s stuff and take what he wants so she can get rid of the rest.  Mostly, it is tools and woodworking equipment.  On Monday, he has to meet with her financial advisor and her, and then he is going back to Wisconsin.  His wife does not allow him to spend one second more than is absolutely necessary with his mother.  Even then, she bitches about every second he is gone and does everything in her power to delay and derail his trips.

I hate her.

 

Sunday, July 11

The Zoom meeting with DeAnn was not as productive as usual as I was consumed with my shit storm disaster all week and had to tell her all the details.  Just as we were getting started, Kevin from Service Master called and said that he would be here in half an hour to collect the dehumidifiers.  I thought he had said he would collect them on Monday, but I didn’t care when he got them as long as the basement was clean and dry. 

Kevin from Service Master was very pleasant, polite, and empathetic, and he appreciated all the compliments I gave him on the service and kindness of the workers.  There was one thing about him that was a little disturbing though—his appearance.  He was NOT ugly, but he had very large, slightly protruding eyes which were extremely dark. He was tall and thin to the point of gauntness, his cheeks were hollow, and his ears were an odd shape—long, slightly twisted, and pointed at the top ends.  I felt guilty for thinking it as he was so very nice, but he reminded me of an old movie vampire character.  If he had been wearing long black robes instead of jeans and a plaid button up shirt with “Kevin” embroidered on the pocket, I might have sharpened the handle of one of my wooden spoons and staked him.  Ha.  Seriously, though.  He had a definite “Nosferatu” vibe going on.

And *I* INVITED HIM IN when he knocked!!  YIKES!  (Just kidding.  I don’t believe in vampires.  Not the literal blood sucking ones, anyhow.  I know there is such a thing as emotional vampires as I have had a few of them in my life.)

I watched a few movies—one was Far from the Madding Crowd. I found the plot confusing and the characters irritating.  The scenery and costumes and architecture were delightful, though.  It was set in Victorian times—possibly in Scotland.  The accents sounded Scottish anyhow.  Another was called Crooked Arrows.  It was about a young half native American man who had been a star lacrosse player in high school.  His father convinced him to come back to the reservation to coach the high school lacrosse team and reconnect them to their tribe’s heritage.  It was a little lame in that I wounder just how many actual native Americans they consulted on the story line and traditions.  They did have, as far as I could tell, all actual native American actors playing native Americans.  It was a satisfying little tale in which the former star player learned to value his heritage, restored the honor of his tribe, and earned the respect of his team.  It could have been great, but they didn’t go that far.  The native American lacrosse players were beautiful.  The last was Shazam!  This one was also rather lame, but in a more deliberate manner—as if the whole thing was done tongue-in-cheek.  The thing that I got the biggest kick out of while watching this movie was that Billy Bates (who became Shazam) had been born while his parents lived in Zumbrota, Minnesota, which was very near to West Concord where I had lived for at least two decades.  I have seen this movie more than once in the past and never noticed this bit of information before.  Now I am wondering whether that bit was true canon, originating in the Shazam comic books, or if it was put in for the movie only—and WHY, of all the towns and cities in the nation, they would pick a tiny, insignificant little hamlet in southern Minnesota? 

It is a mystery to savor.