I was asked, yesterday, why I would choose a Thursday for my regular shopping day. I had two very quick, no think, answers: Why not, and I hate crowds.
The man looked at me in the manner eliciting explanations so I explained. If I go on Thursdays I don’t have that many people to contend with. The Seniors shop on ‘their’ day, Wednesday. If I go on Thursday, then I’ll have Friday to return and pick up the stuff I always forget, thereby avoiding the crowds on Saturday.
He, from his fixed attitude, seemed to be digesting that information, then he nods and strolls off. The reason wasn’t his to question in the first place and rationality of choice was mine, whether it made sense to him or not.
I think the president went shopping somewhere at the wrong time and has run into crowds. Although I will admit the compromise is the government working at its finest in the matter of taxes. The thing now is whether the crowds are going to turn to riots, hatemongering or talk sense the other ninety percent have already arrived to.
The American Thinker had an article of interest in the president’s decision to compromise.
The collective of writers on the Thinker ran a piece on the writers view of the current Bad Boy of the internet. The angle the writer took was rather interesting. He feels the fellow made more than a few errors – one of the major ones appears to be the lack of gain in drabs and dribbles the dude did not do. There’d have been more to gain, the writer explains, in posting selected pieces at more carefully selected strategic moments.
I can understand that. One of the better tactics in personal relations is to let the other fellow discover who you are, don’t dump on him. I understand that is also true in sexual relations. But then I’m hardly expert.
Another project here is about to get underway. The Bath. The plumbing was done last month, and the contractor is due next week for the dry wall, ceiling and wood work. He came around Tuesday for the estimates of materials and I ordered them.
My regular supplier had trouble with his supplier. I’m never sure what one should call a second tier supplier. Ware Houser? Distributer? Anyway, the ceiling tiles I want are Armstrong and the Lumber Yard I patronize had to search pretty hard for a supplier of such. It is unknown to me why such a large manufacturer would be dropped by a business (at least it wasn’t explained to me and once I was guaranteed receiving the parts I didn’t ask).
Anyhow, the project actual work starts next Wednesday.
Signs of the times: Twenty – three, by actual count, collared, tagged and abandoned in the country, dogs wandering the back roads. Some of that may be explained by the annual bird dog trials held in a neighboring city. It happens every year, dogs getting lost. But the number was excessive this year, beyond chance.
I’ll leave you with another picture from the State South of me. I always enjoy walking the dog at three in the morning after being waken by his whineyheimer ways. Well, truthfully, it’s the whiney part that grates. I don’t really mind putting on my parka and wearing socks with my sandals and sweats. The village is still, the clouds allow great views of the stars and over SE about a mile a stripper rig is siphoning off the saltwater.
From the reaches,