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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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The neighbour's texting me, she's got a new pet...
Now you have to know she leaves her door open all day. Keeps the place cool. I do the same, only my place is a mess and I don't want to be judged...
So anyways she's sitting there on the couch and a crow chases a pigeon into her apartment. She chases the crow out, "Your Crow" she accuses me, but the pigeon's not going anywhere.
It's found a ready-made nest in her salad bowl, and she's set out some oats and water for it. This pigeon, it's stumbled into it's best possible life...
"You do know" I tell her as I'm leaving "A bird in the house is an omen of death?"
She's unfussed and loving the attention.
I'm on the rooftop trying to write and have been just discovered by the crows. Unfortunately there's cameras up here, so there will be no peanuts for them today...
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Trips to the locker thwarted by friend having to work. Nonetheless I managed to get rid of 3 very large boxes of buttons totalling a hundred and fifty pounds, all sorted by colour (don't ask, a collection I amassed for someone who had an artistic use for such and then strayed from my acquaintance), my entire necktie collection less a handful grabbed at the last minute, a stack of fine suit jackets (and I'm now worried my Sterling Silver cigarette case was in one of the pockets; I've not found it anywheres)...
In getting rid of this all, in such bulk, I'm taking a bath. The ties alone, sold one by one, are worth thousands. I'll be lucky to see a few hundred. But the freedom in space is worth it and did I really want to photograph and list them online one-by-one?
To the antique shop a couple of antique gold pans, an antique telephone. He's pleased, these things always sell. I have yet to see my commission. I'm kind of needing my commission.
***
The weekend, hot, when the sun comes over the building and shines through the window the apartment becomes a furnace. I have to start drawing the blind. The temperature, maybe only 27 degrees, but more than I like. That's fine weather to be in the forest or panning for gold, lousy weather to be trapped in town.
Daytime, the streets are quiet, evenings when the sun's gone down they're filled with throngs of people, outside bars, restaurants, the hotels are full, an "Influencer Couple" walking down the street looking for fans, others, recognize who you recognize, ...
Sunday, much the same, the heat of the day, oppressive, the streets again empty...
Virgin has been calling me. 3 times yesterday, twice already today. Oh, they're the abusive girlfriend who so desperately wants to get back together, for sure. There should be laws against soliciting - telephone or otherwise, on Sundays.
Bringing me to today. The weekend trip to the locker fallen through I've nothing to do, exist until I go to work, some writing, a bit of painting (already looking bad so when I get back home I'll attempt the second pass, see if I can make them look good); my daughter has me on some series "Nirvana, the band, the show", which so far hasn't amused me but thankfully the episodes are only 10 minutes long...time to glance over the bookshelf and find a couple more I can get rid of, what to read next, but it's time as well to turn over the plants, repair the planters fallen through over the winter, water, and find ways to clean up that damned apartment...
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I took ChatGPT's suggestions as to how convert my new-and-improved tipping interface into an app.
It was very helpful, broke everything down into steps...
Which, of course, stop working almost right away.
It's like if you asked it to teach you to swim and it would tell you to jump into deep water and flail your arms and your legs and everything, sooner or later, will look after itself.
Which is true, just maybe not in the way that you were hoping.
So I'm talking to Gemini in the Firebase console, this perhaps might help me, and it's asking me questions, and I'm answering them, and it's asking me more questions until an hour has passed and I realize I'm getting nowhere fast, it's all just bleah-bleah-bleah, like those Facebook videos that promise some big reveal and you watch and watch and finally realize there's no reveal, there's no epiphany, it's just wasting your time...
Back to the app; I have to find a way to get this up and running and properly monetized...this could be the ticket...
So, another beautiful day and I'm stuck in the library, no car so I'd be stuck here regardless and it's on to other projects...
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Now having gotten rid of a parcel of costume jewelry, some vintage, and a pile of battery operated watches I'm chafed to notice them on sale already on Facebook Marketplace. Of course. And it's not even that, it's the vendor, a self-professed estate liquidator who knows all about everything, except that to watch her you quickly figured out she didn't.
People who talk about skills rarely have them.
Anyways, that's a big red-flag for selling off the rest of my stuff, if there's a profit to be made I should take pains to ensure that it's mine.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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She's gone to Vancouver for a few days and wants me to check on her curling iron, she think's she's left it on....
It isn't. But burning the place down would cure a lot of her worries...
She's used up every single utensil in the place and piled them in the sink. And every dish, mug, glass, pot, pan, cake-tin, all of it.
Remove the dishes, the bottom of the sink is covered in a one inch layer of bio-hazardous scum. To do the dishes I first have to clean the sink. And - wow, it's something.
Sink done I roll up my sleeves and start the dishes....
It takes 5 tubs of blackened water and a full bottle of dish detergent before I can see her stovetop, counter-top, and I'll share with you the view...
The dishes. But a lot higher than this, I left my phone charging and so missed the "overall" picture.
Out of curiosity I open the fridge...
I mean, this is that level of CRAZY
And then there's this. I'm going to have to ask about it...we're not allowed pets, is this her idea of a snack?
Another few sinks full of filth and refuse and I'm done. This is the kind of stuff the landlord would walk into and Social Services would help you out. The other rooms, bedroom, bathroom, hall, they're all the same, but take out the rotting garbage, food, expired and otherwise, the rest is her problem. This is right on the level of Stormy Texas. I suspect there's a lot of Kootenay places like this...
It makes me feel a little teensy-weensy bit better about my place...