Snippets of existence
It was a beach day, by the usual standards, but we were already at the beach so such things didn’t matter. We only wanted to escape the sun. Shade of the van was sufficient for the first few hours, but then the intrusive sound of a neighbouring wind chime (bamboo torture instrument) had us planning how we could play “capture the flag” with something that made that much noise every time a breath of air touched it without anyone noticing. Finally, we capitulated and went for a drive.
We visited a cemetery, long enough to take a photo for someone else. This was my first visit to the particular site, and I realized that even though my family had lived in the area for close to two centuries, I had no relatives (lving or dead) in the ground here. The effect of two hundred years of cultural divide.
Lunch carried the detail that sometimes a menu is just a wish list. I ordered a hot hamburger, and was asked how I wanted it dressed. I switched to hot turkey, but there was no fowl on hand. I settled for something with a lot of lettuce and tomato, convinced that this was my day for a healthy diet. And the milk I ordered just never came. Oh well.
Access to wireless is still available in the area, albeit from a different provider. The local government site doesn’t appear to be open this summer, for no apparent reason. Maybe tomorrow we’ll learn the why and how of such things. We also visited the hospital, but a close relative was no longer there. This is a good thing, but now I’ll have to figure out where to go and visit.
In the marketing world of the cellphone, all calling cards are not equal. After an initial purchase, attempts to activate revealed that we needed a long distance variety, rather than local; we were a long distance from our local calling district, or something like that. After several calls by the merchant, we received something that was acceptable to the monopoly (not what we wanted, but by this point we no longer cared to bargain) and went on our merry way. What if we don’t call anyone?
A first visit to the real estate agent of our choice left us with new jargon, some forms, a promise to visit a property tomorrow and the realization that buying a house (the first time around) was much easier. After all, that time we knew what we wanted. This time we know what we don’t. We’re still not up to the “offered and refused” stage, but by tomorrow afternoon we’ll have had a chance to visit an empty house on a hot summer’s day, trying to imagine the same house (with our stuff inside) on a cold winter’s night. That’s why my mother told me I had a great imagination.
