Certainly Cursed

 

Oh, I don't want to bother you with my troubles, but boy oh boy, that's all I have.  I stayed up too late working on something that intrigued me, so I slept late and didn't get up until long past sunrise.  Set the coffee to perking.  I was remembering what I needed to do this busy day.  When I went to my mother's house to pick up some things for her yesterday afternoon, the house was warm.  Hmm.  80 degrees.  The unit was off and wouldn't come back on.  I checked the float valve.  Yup.  We'd just had this serviced a couple months ago, but once again the line was not draining.  I would need to contact the HVAC company for a service call and try to meet them there.  The cleaning crew comes today, so I put the sheets and pillowcases in the washer.  

Oops.  Not enough laundry detergent.  O.K.  O.K.  I added a little dishwashing soap.  

I grabbed a cup of coffee and my laptop.  WTF?  No internet.  I unplugged the modem and plugged it back in.  Lights were lit, but still no internet.  I called Spectrum and got the automated helper.  It reset my internet equipment.  

Nope.  

I got a real person on the line.  Unplug the yellow ethernet cord from the modem.  Plug it back in.  Do the same for the router.  Unplug the power.  Plug it back in.  

Bingo!

The morning was racing past me.  I checked my email.  I had a notice from Apple that my payment had been declined.  Another half hour or more trying to link my payment method to my Apple account.  

WTF?  I am CERTAINLY under some voodoo curse.  Everything is going wrong.  

Not everything.  My mother is doing much better.  I am astounded at her comeback and resilience.  One of her friends came to see her yesterday when I got there mid-afternoon.  She is legally blind, so her son brought her up.  Just as we all settled in my mother's room, the therapist came in.  We told my mother we would wait in the lobby.  My mother's friend, son, and I chatted for about half an hour.  The therapist rolled my mother into the room in a wheelchair.  She seemed happy.  About an hour later, my mother's visitors left.  It had been a good visit.  

Back in my mother's room, she was not inclined to get back into bed, and when I left her, she was sitting up and watching t.v.  

Incredible.  

Today I am going to see an attorney to help me with my Power of Attorney. . . and such.  

Just now as I was writing, the yardmen showed up.  I ran out to pay the fellow in charge and show him the broken sprinkler head.  Nope.  Not a sprinkler head.  It is an underground pipe.  Tree roots probably lifted and it snapped.  I will need to call. . . who?  Irrigation guy or a plumber?  

Piss shit fuck goddamn.  Why?  

"Don't beat me anymore!"

I usually use Safari to do my blogger work.  For awhile now, it has been acting weird.  Today, no matter what I tried, I wasn't able to post a picture.  I switched to Google Chrome and it worked.  Has Google done things with its apps that won't allow them to work with Safari?  

It kind of bugs me.  I like the familiar here at home.  Maybe I like strange in the streets, but I like familiar at home. . . in the sheets.  

I couldn't help that.  It makes no sense, but I wanted the silly rime.  

The bedding is done washing.  It is later than I would like even though I skipped reading the news today.  I made the Magritte style illustration for C.C. yesterday after he nonchalantly tossed out a request.  I have made a little Hopper-esque video thematically part of the old Lonesomeville project.  I don't know if I will be allowed to post it here.  I'm not sure if I should.  It isn't really done yet.  I need to add titles, still images, title boards, and a soundtrack.  But I don't have time to do it now.  I spent my morning dealing with broken things.  

Whatever.  Here it is.  Judge me if you will.  But if you liked the Lonesomeville project, you might like this.