And I’m proud to be an American where at least I know I’m free, And I won’t forget the men who died, who gave that right to me – God Bless The USA – 1984 – Lee Greenwood
Welcome to Drivel Over Coffee. The Drivel rambles through this thing called life, stopping here and there for reflection, an enlightenment, some storytelling, and a touch of humor perhaps. All the while my brain reverberates with the best music in the world – The ‘60’s and early 70’s. Yep – Lost in The Sixties. Remember, the brave kids who made this land free for you and me.
The move, the one from Hysteria Lane to Condo Court, has come to an end. Our condo is now stacked with all these wonderful boxes that we so lovingly packed just a week or two ago. We taped them carefully, but we were sorely negligent in our labeling of these boxes. At the time, the labeling was as clear as could be but a couple of weeks later, they made sense to no one – not even Murphy. He didn’t want anything to do with most of them. My current wife and I have been diligently unpacking boxes at a rate where we believe they should all be done by 2025 or thereabouts.
It gets silly finding so basic of things. We were absolutely giddy when we found the box with the silverware. I got so tired of eating with plastic ware. It was so army if you know what I mean. Though I think we had better quality with our c-rations in Vietnam. Oh, the day we found our toilet paper just as we began rationing our last roll. That was intense. My current wife was seemingly happy, though she didn’t opening admit it, that the plastic tub with her, ahem, unmentionables surfaced along with her face paint. And so it goes in the daily life of new condoites.
But back on Hysteria Lane not all is so rosy. Two of the three original hotties have either left or are about to leave. That leaves only H, the educator, as the only hottie. There has been talk by some of the long residing neighbors of putting on a block party around Labor Day. Rumor has it being a sock hop type of thing with 60’ & 70’s music, dancing in the street, a chocolate fountain and shrimp. Tums, Aleve, Tylenol, Advil, Ben-Gay, and yes, we will have chaperoned wheel chair attendants to help with people who over indulge on the different beverage on hand. Should be a hoot. I haven’t heard of anything like that being planned as a welcome in my new neighborhood. Shoot, I don’t even know who the association officer’s names and phone numbers are.
She spent the first day packing her belongings into boxes, crates and suitcases. On the second day, she had the movers come and collect her things. On the third day, she sat down for the last time at their beautiful dining room table by candlelight, put on some soft background music, and feasted on a pound of shrimp, a jar of caviar, and a bottle of Chardonnay. When she had finished, she went into each and every room and deposited a few half-eaten shrimp shells, dipped in caviar, into the hollow of the curtain rods. She then cleaned up the kitchen and left. When the husband returned with his new girlfriend, all was bliss for the first few days. Then slowly, the house began to smell. They tried everything; cleaning and mopping and airing the place out. Vents were checked for dead rodents, and carpets were steam cleaned. Air fresheners were hung everywhere.
Exterminators were brought in to set off gas canisters, during which they had to move out for a few days, and in the end, they even paid to replace the expensive wool carpeting. Nothing worked. People stopped coming over to visit. Repairmen refused to work in the house. The maid quit. Finally, the couple could not take the stench any longer and decided to move. A month later, even though they had cut their price in half, they could not find a buyer for their stinky house. Word got out, and eventually, even the local realtors refused to return their calls. Finally, they had to borrow a huge sum of money from the bank to purchase a new place. The ex-wife called the man, and asked how things were going. He told her the saga of the rotting house. She listened politely, and said that she missed her old home terribly, and would be willing to reduce her divorce settlement in exchange for getting the house back.
Knowing his ex-wife had no idea how bad the smell was, he agreed on price that was about 1/10th of what the house had been worth…But only if she were to sign the papers that very day. She agreed, and within the hour, his lawyers delivered the paperwork. A week later, the man and his new girlfriend stood smirking as they watched the moving company pack everything to take to their new home, including the curtain rods. I JUST LOVE A STORY WITH A HAPPY ENDING, DON’T YOU?
Murphy’s Lesser Known Laws
Found in a box of Murphy’s toys and stuffies was this list that I guess he made up sometime. Who knew? The kid is smart.
1. Light travels faster than sound. This is why some people appear bright until you hear them speak.
2. Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine.
3. Those who live by the sword get shot by those who live by the gun.
4. Nothing is foolproof to a sufficiently talented fool.
5. The 50-50-90 rule: Anytime you have a 50-50 chance of getting something right, there’s a 90% probability you’ll get it wrong.
6. If you lined up all the cars in the world end to end, someone would be stupid enough to try to pass them, on a hill, in the fog.
7. The things that come to those who wait will be the scraggly junk left by those who got there first.
8. The shin bone is a device for finding furniture in a dark room.
9. A fine is a tax for doing wrong. A tax is a fine for doing well.
10. When you go into court, you are putting yourself into the hands of twelve people who weren’t smart enough to get out of jury duty.
…….. Well my friends, there you have it as told by yours truly to you all. Thanks for allowing me back into your day, if only for a brief time. It is always an honor. If I can make at least one-person smile, laugh till they leak, or maybe spit out a drink, my day was not wasted. Until we meet again -TA!”
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