Pondering the world

Do not go gentle into that good night

DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

--Dylan Thomas

today is not the day to [tick] me off

Steve was down in Artesia for a B&B association meeting, so I was on my own for breakfast on Thursday morning.  That always makes me a little more stressed, since when I'm on my own I have to make sure I can keep all those balls in the air at the same time.  I have to do what he normally does AND do what I usually do as well.  On time.  In the right order.

Early in the morning I had walked from our townhouse to the B&B (2 streets = 3 minute walk) to get the coffee made and set everything out so people could help themselves.  I walked back home to get something and needed to drive the truck over and park it back in the driveway where it normally stays.  Oops, it was now time for school (we are next to an elementary school) and I had to wait for the kids to cross and the crossing guards to let me through.  As I went to turn into the driveway--urg, stop--there were two trucks parked in my driveway and some guys standing there.  What the heck?  So I pulled the truck over to the side of the street, got out and said, "you're parked in my driveway."  The guy replied, "Yes, we are."   And I replied right back, "So move your trucks.  You're in my driveway and I need to park there." 

I had to go past the house, pull into the neighbor's driveway to turn around, wait for the kids and the crossing guards again, and go park in one of our spaces in the lot across the street.  By this time I was ticking off the minutes and sweating that I wasn't going to get breakfast on the table in time if I didn't get a move on.  The guy started coming across the street like he was going to explain to me why he should park in my driveway but I waved him off--I don't have time for this!

I did manage to serve everyone's breakfast on time even with a special-diet person, which means I had to make something for her completely different from what everyone else was having, and that contributed to my elevated stress level that morning.   

A few hours went by.  The time was rapidly approaching when I would have to jump in the truck and head across town for a business lunch.  I went out to get in the truck to go and saw that now not only have the trucks parked in my driveway, but one has also parked across the street in one of my spaces reserved for guests.  This happens when workmen don't want to put money in the pay station to park in the city lot, so they figure they can park in my spaces for free.

"All right, now I'm really starting to get upset.  Your trucks are still in the driveway AND now one of your guys is parked in one of my reserved spaces, which are clearly marked.  Get your trucks out of my driveway and out of my spaces!"

At that point I determined that if they were still there when I returned from lunch, I was going to tell them to move them or lose them--I would call the parking enforcement people.  Fortunately, they were gone by the time I returned.

My frame of mind earlier in the day often determines how I react later.  As I walked away I said, "today is not the day to [tick*] me off."

* I actually said something else, but I never know who's going to read this.  Someone might actually think I use profanity now and then.

The back of my hand to ya!

Steve and I were in the kitchen making breakfast this morning.  I was washing dishes and he was making the omelets with his usual concentration. 

One of our guests was getting himself some more tea and saw Steve.  "You're really working on that, huh?" he asked.

Steve replied, "Omelets are serious business."

The guy said, "Men are generally better at that...  as with most things in the kitchen."

The sad thing is that I don't think he was teasing.  I gave him "the look," and he seemed surprised like he couldn't figure out he had just said something very insulting.  Just the latest in a series of inconsiderate or thoughtless remarks he's made in just the two days he's been here. 

Even sadder, if I were to smack him around a bit like I wanted to, I'd get hauled off to jail.  But at least I can say to myself, "Eh!  The back of my hand to ya!"

What are people thinking?

Happy birthday to my upstairs neighbor who STARTED her birthday party at 10:30 p.m. last night.  I finally went up at 1:15 a.m. and told her she was going to have to shut down the party.  She acted like she never realized she had neighbors on both sides and upstairs and downstairs.  Those neighbors also might like to actually sleep to get ready for work the next day.  This is not the first time, and now that she's aware of the existence of other people, one of two things will happen:  1) she might remember that the next time she has a party and not go so late; or 2) I will not wait until 1:15 a.m. to go up and pound on the door.

You know what I want?  I want the apartment complex manager's home number so when the neighbor has her next party, I can call the manager at some godawful hour and share the pleasure.

Okay.  That last post about the snow was a wannabe rant.  This is a real one.