Just open the door, already
I was distracted. When I went down to fetch the loaner dog this morning, she was unable to open the door; that’s one of the things that you should teach a pup, long before you get into fetching ragged tennis balls or dancing like a ballerina. We weren’t speaking the same language, either. I’d suggest “Jump and twist the turnbuckle”. She’d respond with “Woof”; still not sure if she had an interrogative or affirmative tone. I finally drove home to get the extra key.
The mover didn’t call. After waiting until close to the end of the business day, I phoned. Somehow, they had the impression that we wanted to move in about three months (instead of three days). That mistaken impression has been corrected, but the sun has set. This is a long weekend, and my timeline just stretched a bit more.
On the news, details about another charitable foundation that rates a “fail” on their philanthropy. Last year, 8% to the target group and 92% absorbed by infrastructure. Granted, it was their worst performance in the last five fiscal periods, but proof that the learning curve may be a slippery downhill slope. The moral: give carefully.
Of course, hearing the mayor pontificate that HE wouldn’t give them any more public funding didn’t impress me, much. Reaction, not proaction is the motto for his peculiar style of leadership.
Trying to come up with some ideas for basement finishing. Maybe a retro dungeon look, with fieldstones. Just need to wander the line between the beach and the cliff, and develop a strong back. No need to rush into anything. After all, the whole move model is running at a snail’s pace…
