Nobody is Promised Tomorrow. . .
Just an ordinary bleak day in the Reign of 47.
Some days are hard.
But we cannot let the bastards win.
Our parents lied to us about the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus.
Our high school civics teachers lied to us about Checks and Balances and the Rule of Law.
That does not give us a pass.
So.
What exactly was I thinking yesterday?
My coffee maker — the one Alexa controls — is fussy about filters.
Filters can be obtained from Amazon or Harris-Teeter.
Naturally, I buy mine at Harris-Teeter.
Never mind how inconvenient that is.
Yesterday, I purchased 600 coffee filters.
What makes me think the coffee pot will last 600 filters’ worth?
More importantly:
What makes me think I’ll last 600 filters’ worth?
Funny how the ancient brain calculates these things.
For the record: 200 filters cost $1.49.
I doubt this is financially significant.
And eleven years ago today, I signed on at The Asylum.
At the time, they had a program where residents could “trade up” to a better apartment by jumping ahead in the waiting list.
They were, in fact, waiting for someone to die.
But you did not actually have to live in the apartment you were using to improve your position in the queue.
I never spent a single night in my first apartment.
Fortunately.
It had absolutely nothing going for it.
Other than availability.
Every time I see the window washers, I think of George Formby and his famously naughty 1930s song, When I’m Cleaning Windows.
It was too risque for BBC Radio.
It is all too easy for me to slip into just hanging around the Old Bat’s Cave.
So I went to the movies again today.
Also had lunch out and stopped at the grocery store.
A multipurpose outing.
Several people recommended The Sheep Detectives.
It was charming. Positive. Upbeat.
And less than two hours long.
At 82, I am no longer trying to do everything.
If truth be known, I am not really trying to do anything.
The goal now is simply to keep things pleasant and manageable for as long as possible.
The electricity went out in the Old Bat’s Cave after I was already cosy in bed listening to an audiobook.
No worries.
Shortly after I woke up, the power returned, Alexa reconnected to the mothership, and I was able to begin the day by uttering the sacred phrase:
“Computer, Good Morning.”
All good.
My morning ramble took me past the scene of yesterday’s transformer accident.
Decided it might be time to think about a Plan B for my trigeminal neuralgia.
No need to rush into anything.
After all, Plan A has always been to die before it gets too bad.
But I never intended to be 82 years old.
I might not die soon enough.
Ten days ago, the Table of the Dead was empty.
While I was out of the building, one of our transformers was hit by a truck.
So tonight, The Asylum is operating on some sort of reduced-power mode.
My apartment still has electricity. At least for now.
I charged all my devices and power banks.
And filled my travel mug with hot coffee. Just in case.
Wine tasting proceeded as scheduled.
Dinner was advertised as “limited.”
I passed on dinner and had soup and an apple in the comfort of the Old Bat’s Cave.
We are down to two elevators.
A good evening to stay put with a book.
Meanwhile, more from Pittsburgh.
A perfectly pleasant day.
Mostly spent folding paper.
Five Kawasaki roses.
I am going to attach them to ninja throwing stars.
An interesting combination.
A variation on Guns N’ Roses.
The door to death is standing wide open around here.
Five people have died in the last five days.
And a distressing number of residents seem to be slipping away mentally.
That’s the danger of living here.
You get used to it.
But it is a reminder:
Use the good stuff.
Eat dessert.
Tell someone you love them.
Nobody gets out alive.
OK. Back to “real” life.
Deeply grateful that I can still get around.
Albeit slowly.
This is life’s bonus round.
I have exceeded the average life expectancy for white women in the United States. And nobody is promised tomorrow.
The Tale of Two Airports.
And about 200 miles later…
I used to love flying home and looking down at DC and the Mall.
Now I look down with despair.
Goodbye, Pittsburgh.
Pittsburgh was great.
While waiting at the airport, I decided to go for a long walk.
Airports are excellent places for long walks.
My reward was discovering Fraley’s Robot Repair — a marvelous public art installation in the United concourse.
According to creator Toby Atticus Fraley, it is:
A shop stuck in a time warp — a scene from an alternate reality. Simultaneously in the 1950s and the future. The shop’s owners seem to have gone on some sort of extended vacation, leaving projects half finished and customers waiting.
Whatever happens is what I planned.
Okay. One more day in Pittsburg. That means one more “activity”. Because I am a one and done old person. I can no longer pack a day full of activities. ONE.
I decide to take the bus to The Phipps Conservatory. And return to the hotel by bus. The bus part provides additional exercise, sightseeing, and mental challenge. Not to mention, it is much cheaper than Uber.
But I have not come to look at dinosaurs. Maybe on my next trip to Pittsburgh?
. And it seems to be graduation day at the university of Pittsburgh. So there are lots of people running around with caps and gowns all sort of looking like extras in a Harry Potter movie.
The conservatory was having a huge plant and craft sale. But since I am traveling by plane, I was not tempted to buy anything.
I was however, tempted, by the Greek Orthodox Church that I passed while looking for the bus stop. They were serving lunch and I was hungry. I was not hungry when i left
It has been a fun little trip.
I came to Pittsburgh to go to the Heinz Museum. So, off I went.
Great museum.
I got tired. Before the museum had been completely explored. Sorta comes my age group.
Thus fueled I returned to the hotel. I may go back to the museum tomorrow.
What ever happens will be what I planned.
Made it up and out and to DCA through TSA And to Pittsburgh.
Ubered to the hotel which wasn’t ready for me.
But Bill’s Bar and Burgers was ready to serve me.
After this dainty repast, I head back to the hotel and came in a different door. Into a different universe.
Who knew? I sure didn’t. All I knew was that they had a free breakfast.
Tomorrow — off to the ketchup museum.
I had been dreading the hygienist with TN acting up.
But it went fine.
Next stop: Pittsburgh.
Peeked in on the Jeff Bezos Big Ball last night.
Have those people never heard of Marie Antoinette?
Pro tip: it didn’t end well.
I have found a use for The Bezos Post.
I no longer subscribe. I no longer read it.
This copy was retrieved from the recycle bin and reassigned to compost duty.