And then my water broke...

What a year this has been, worse than 2020 for certain.  Since my last post I've been pushed close to the breaking point, and the proverbial straw finally dropped this past week while living without running water for 4 days, waiting for my RV mechanic.

I had a doctor's appointment but couldn't find their office, so I pulled over to call for directions.  But my new and improved free government phone has decided to keep me incommunicado since it just won't make or receive calls, what good is that?  It hasn't been working for weeks, I'm just now discovering.  People sending me voicemails, texts and emails, "I must have the wrong number."

After troubleshooting with the tech, Bleep! all kinds of messages about texts, weather, and dumb news popped up, including an invitation to a friend's barbeque/graduation party on Sunday.  I didn't know how to answer other than pressing one of the phone's dummy responses:  Okay, so I sent a follow-up email to confirm my response.

How exciting!  Somewhere to go with PEOPLE!  Not the greatest when it comes to impromptu snacks, I pondered my contribution until I remembered the deviled egg Tupperware container I picked up in Goodwill.  I placed a quick order for ingredients, and found a cute little Autograph Dog with a graduation cap and a pen, which I hoped could be fun for guests to sign.  I debated whether I should remove the dog from it's cardboard 'stand' and add the first signature, or attach a card.  I left it alone for the time being.

It's hot as hell here in Southern Or-a-gun and it's expected to reach over 110 any day now.  Fire dangers everywhere, I'm still packed from last year.  Today's only expected to reach 102 but it could be worse.  We could live in Arizona.  I signed up for an Emergency Notification in case of fire, but if my phone doesn't work what good will that do?

For a couple years now I've cared for livestock and family pets when the property owners are gone.  Last Friday morning I'd tossed a scoop of chicken feed over the fence (it rains down on the birds but they don't seem to mind), and I heard them making a horrible racket while I walked around to let out the goats and sheep.  The chickens were clustered around something and as I neared they never budged.  Then I saw their entertainment:  a duck, caught by a predator just shy of escaping through the cut-out hole in the chicken wire fence.  His head and neck made it through but his gut was ripped open, undigested food and feathers scattered on the ground, and one chicken was making off with a severed foot.

God, I had to shoo away the scavengers and extricate this poor thing; praying for it's tiny soul which I HOPED wouldn't suddenly move, I've watched too many horror movies.  I put it in a garbage bag and into the bin, lucky me it was pickup day.

"I know it's life on a farm, but this was a first for me and it was traumatic."  Since then another duck and a couple chickens have disappeared, so I was warned, Be careful, since I'm often up during the wee hours which wakes up BC, who must then go outside.  They're not sure if it's mountain lions or really vicious badgers.  Either way, hell!  The other day two sheep each had twins, but I haven't wanted to look at them because I don't want to connect an image when I hear, "One died last night."  I recently watched a sweet baby goat adopted by a family, just to be told the following day that it had died.  My skin's not that kind of thick.

Speaking of nasty, I've  developed another skin cancer spot (the least dangerous, known in the trade as, "Gopher Rot," the dermatologist joked, because it burrows down rather than spreads out, charming.) Coulda been from 12 years in Puerto Rico, where I rarely wore sunscreen; or it coulda been from a bad burn during childhood, no way to tell.  A waning to any young person reading:  it may not be dangerous but it is unsightly.  I investigated tattoos years ago but the cost, wow!  So I decided that if I go someplace where a scar would attract unwanted attention, I'll paint myself a flower or butterfly to cover them up and fit right in. No photos, not to worry.  But it IS another thing added to my plate.

The battery died in my anti-rodent gizmo without my knowledge, and seemingly overnight squirrels made an enormous mess in my RV engine.  I worked for hours using a pair of tweezers, chopstick, a metal dental pick, tape, two spoons (one iced tea, one demitasse) plus a flashlight;  but there are acorn shells and rocks in places I can't access including, I think, where the fan belt does its thing.  I need the folks from Land of the Giants (a late-60's TV series) but since the motor's got other mechanical problems which makes it incapable of taking me anywhere, the acorns haven't been at the top of my list.  But this, too, needs attention.

In addition to my other pandemic projects I've been working on a line of greeting and blank cards.  My hands are shot for the kind of work I used to do (another item for my "I'da thrown a party" list) so I'm finally creating cards using some of my best work.  (I've not finished setting it up so there's nothing to buy yet. I'll announce that separately.) I've been wanting to try this concept since my dog-and-pony-show days in Puerto Rico.  Friends were mass-producing prints and cards of their canvas art, while each of my painted gourd is an original.  I just don't have a 'name'. Wait'll I'm dead, I keep telling relatives.

Turns out that I'm unable to sell the cards in multiple quantities the way I'd like to through my Etsy shop, which means I'll have to also sell them on my website.  It's been years since I put anything for sale on that, so I must re-familiarize myself with creating Paypal buttons and other stuff.

Oh boy, it's almost 9am and I'm dashing in and out, writing this and painting the outside of the teardrop before it gets too hot to work, around 10:30-11am.  Local lakes are less than 25% full and many are closed for the season.  We're waiting to see if the 111 degree June record and the 115 degree all-time record set in 1946 are beaten this week.

Only last year did I learn the area's occasionally distinctive aroma ISN'T the cows in the field next door but a treatment plant up the road.  Good think I lost my sense of smell during my probable-bout-with-Covid last year, I've now been told by two physicians. Can you imagine the smell during 110 degree weather? Moooooooo...

I'll digress a moment to add I'm also facing computer-language challenges to my website and this blog.  I suppose because of all the hacks, everyone's trying to make things more secure online; but I suspect it's a conspiracy between Webmasters of the Universe to earn some extra money.  I'm not the only one dealing with this crap, but I don't want to pay someone else to do what I can quite possibly do myself, if I put my mind to it.  I don't understand Code all that well and it's hard to learn overnight, but I'd better hustle because I need to fix it all by July.

This feels like a Catch-22:  I can't post my Cards if I don't fix my website, and if I don't fix this blog it will continue, but my 'Subscribers' may not automatically receive new posts.  I've been downloading How-To articles for weeks, but each time I begin to read I'm totally intimidated, here's one example:

"Non-strict comparisons between numbers and non-numeric strings now work by casting the number to string and comparing the strings. Comparisons between numbers and numeric strings continue to work as before. Notably, this means that 0 == "not-a-number" is considered false now."

"And then my water broke," I said to Hillary via Skype, the only way I'm able to communicate. After we stopped laughing I explained the hot water heater trouble I had last month returned with a vengeance on Saturday and the floor was soaked, worse this time. I got the mechanic, who lives up the hill, to quickly come down and take a look.

"I'll get the part tomorrow and come fix it."

"But tomorrow's Father's Day," not mentioning the barbeque; but he's the only mobile RV repairman around and if he says he's coming, I'll be here.

"I've got to fix another rig, so I'll come by...after 1, 1:30.  Turn off the water."  My hot water heater doesn't have a shut-off valve, but there's a spigot right outside, plus I lived on a boat for years.

Why do I have that kind of luck; there's no telling HOW long it'll be until I make it up to my friend's party.  So I went to her daughter, my landlady, and asked if she was going to her parent's home the next day.  She hesitated, so I added,

"The barbeque?"

"That was last week."

"Chloe's graduation party?"

"Nope, last weekend.  So you don't need to get anything."

"Too late, I already did. 18 hard-boiled eggs," and the aforementioned autograph dog.  She said her family'd help eat the eggs.  I was in shock, never thought to check the DATE of the text, and my friends probably just scratched their heads at my written replies.  Good thing I didn't sign the dog.

I zipped to the bank Sunday morning for some cash, since I don't use checks, but naturally the mechanic didn't show.  Just as well or I'd have shown up on my friend's doorstep, deviled eggs in hand, wondering where everybody was.  On Monday afternoon I watched the mechanic drive past the property on his way home, and ran inside to call him on Skype.

"Did you forget me?"

"Yes, I forgot to get the part.  I'll be there tomorrow."

Tuesday is early Senior morning at our Walmart, opening at 6am, including the Pharmacy, and I needed to pick up scripts.  I'm leery of leaving BC alone since learning of her diabetes, so I hoped to zip in and out while it was still cool.  I called to double-check their opening hours, and asked if Customer Service would also be open early (to return the dog).

"Yes, ma'am.  I won't be here, but when you come in just ask any of the cashiers and they'll get someone to help you."

Wow, terrific!  I got there around 6:15, the first goal getting rid of the bulky dog.

"Excuse me, I need some help in Customer Service, please."

"Doesn't open until 7." the tall fellow barked.

"I was told, since it's early, to ask..."

"Not until 7."

"Wait, please, a woman told me..."

"Seven O'Clock, Seven O'Clock, Seven O'Clock," he repeated as he rudely walked away.

I managed to stifle Amy while requesting someone else locate a manager.  My heart was pounding as I waited...what is it with people?  It must be me.  I don't fit in here.  When the manager came she said,

"Of course I can help you, come with me." She confirmed the information I received on the phone was correct, and was sorry the guy was so rude. Everyone says he's so nice.

"Must be me."  Yep.  Although once before, when I was in not quite this early, I very politely asked this same jerk, "When is Customer Service open?"

"Not now," he sing-song'd, I guess he thought that was clever.

"What kind of an answer is that?!"  Amy was out that day, so maybe he remembered.  It did give me some satisfaction that he learned he was wrong.  I asked the manager not to say anything to him, because if I was broken down on the side of the road I'd hate for him to run me over.  You know what it is:  most Oregonians I've met dislike confrontations, and aren't used to being questioned.

I was stuttering and rumbling from Amy rattling around inside my chest while the manager processed the return.  She couldn't locate my receipt from the number I gave her, did I have an app to look up their receipt on my phone, was she serious?  Me?  Apps?  So she gave me a gift card, I shop there all the time.

Off to the pharmacy: my prescriptions were all wrong, not of my doing.  One old prescription, free when I was on SSI, cost me $9 once I turned 65.  At the time the pharmacist suggested I ask my doctor for something covered under my plan, and I replied that I would, once I learned who my new doctor would be.  So when the pharmacist said, "$31.50" you can imagine my expression.  I asked for the old kind instead but of course, Can't do that, have to call your doctor. I Skyped them once I got home but my annoyance wasn't well masked in my phone message, so I probably p___d them off, too.

Painting is terrific therapy so I went outside to finish the faux-grass roof, racing against the evening's thunderstorm.  I had help putting up the blue canopy (in the photo up top) but couldn't guarantee any help would be around taking it down.  I've gone through that once already, standing in the rain in the middle of the night, wind whipping and ripping the fabric, lightening raging,  holding on to a bent metal canopy threatening to blow away like Dorothy's house, while screaming at the heavens, "Ga'head, strike me dead," but it didn't work.

When I watched the mechanic drive past on Tuesday I didn't bother to call.  I didn't have the energy.  Painting without running water is a pain. I can do it; I had to on the boat, but I don't feel like it now.  I used disposable brushes and pallets until the mechanic finally stopped on Wednesday, after I called and made him promise.  The fix was trickier than expected so he had to pick up a different part, but he left his tools so I knew he'd come back. I couldn't believe I groveled on Saturday, assuring him that I'm not as broke as I used to be and will gladly pay for his work (he's been very fair about charging me, often not, over the past 10 years; so I suspected he groaned at the thought of the 'charity case', I could be wrong.)

It boils down to this: if I can't maintain the RV by myself and can't get paid (or unpaid) help when I'm in a bind, I'd better get rid of it now before it continues to deteriorate.  It's time to move forward, so I'm hitting the road with my teardrop in the fall, when school's back in session. Don't ask where I'm headed or what I'll do, I'll figure that out as I go along. Housesitting; volunteering; maybe North, for a change.  I've wanted to visit some places up in Washington, and there are old friends scattered about with whom I'd love to reconnect.

I expected to leave in March but the timing didn't work out, which turned out to be a good thing for a number of reasons. I needed this kick out of the nest, so to speak, because I was beginning to be AFRAID, God forbid!

Because of it's small size the teardrop doesn't need to be registered in Oregon.  I told Sis I might paint my license plate on the back, because not having one doesn't seem right and states don't all have the same rules.

"But then again, say I wasn't aware something had happened...how many Hobbit Houses will be driving down I-5 (at the same time)?"  It doesn't look like much now, but wait till I'm finished.

Sorry this is so lengthy but I'm not certain whether subscribers will receive my posts starting next week sometime, and wanted to fill you in.  But I'll persevere with the computer code, and you'll eventually receive something in your Inbox, which you can always opt to Unsubscribe.

In the meantime, please Bookmark this page, wish me luck, and thanks for reading!