Category Archives: Daily post

Still looking at AC units

And there are a plethora of them. Office temperature is about the same as before, peaking at 86°F right after sundown every night. And every day I have to “fight” with the cat about keeping stuff that belongs on my desk actually on my desk. He really wants to get on my lap, but there just isn’t enough room for a cat on my lap while I work on the computer, so he goes behind the monitor/laptop screen and ends up pushing everything off the desk trying to get comfy. So I yell at him and he pouts, then walks across the keyboard as soon as my back is turned.

Anywho, just got back from an argument with Mrs. the Poet about spending money. Not that I’m spending it unwisely, but according to her I’m not spending enough. The reason we even have window units is because way back before Dad died our central AC died first, and the reason it died was the wiring in the house has gone bad. I had an electrician look at the situation back then and part of the problem is our breaker box is no longer up to code and before any other work can be done that has to be replaced at about $1K then troubleshooting or replacing the bad wiring may commence. In today’s $ we are looking at $3-8K total repairs before fixing the AC can even start. And the reason we are looking at these costs is the wiring may or may not have been up to code when the house was built in 1985, there was some shady business with building inspection back then.

Another reason for the argument is I have been working from faulty data on our finances. My data says we have about 8 years left before we have to sell the house to cover taxes, but according to Mrs. the Poet I was only informed about one of 3 accounts and we really have a lot more than that, more than twice as much. I’m not used to working like that. But either way we are looking at between $5K and $9k to repair the central AC compared to $130 to replace the window unit in the office. We got the window units about 10 years ago, and the three little ones all failed last summer pretty much at the same time, so to get everything back to status quo would be about $400. Now the real problem is our heat tolerance differences. I’m good to about 85 for sleeping under a ceiling fan, Mrs. the Poet really needs something cooler. Going the other way I can sleep comfortably under a heavy quilt as cool as 50 with a pair of wool socks on, where Mrs. the Poet starts complaining under 60. Part of that is I spent two winters in my grandmother’s house that only had a wood-burning stove for heat and the bedrooms would get near freezing in the winter and only got a small window unit for AC after Dad got back from Vietnam, and we moved out before the AC went in. The other part is I spent years riding as much as 200 miles a day out in the heat so just hanging around in the same heat is nothing, barely even uncomfortable.

Bottom line, I want Mrs. the Poet happy and comfortable, but not at the cost of not having a place to live shortly after that. That’s why the T-bucket project stalled, so that we would still have a roof over our heads.

Advertisements

I can’t decide

I can’t decide if I’m just cheap, or acclimatizing to the heat, or what. Because it doesn’t really bother me that it’s 84°F in the office, the real concern is for my electronics, some of which are not performing correctly, like this laptop. Since I have to use the on-screen keyboard to use some of the keys, things like cursor control are important right now. But the cursor is wandering all over the screen without any input from me. I used to be able to park the cursor on top of the <m> key on the on-screen keyboard and just tap the touchpad at the bottom of the keyboard to type the letter “m”. And the cable box is a little wonky too but nothing I can put my finger on to say specifically what’s wrong. It might just be the remote instead.

But me? I’m just dandy, if a little damp. Not sweaty, just not dry, damp. Also not uncomfortable. Which is why I think I should be getting the new unit for the bedroom instead of the office except for the electronics, which are much more heat-sensitive than me. That is my dilemma, save the electronics that will cost a fortune to replace, or have a bedroom Mrs. the Poet can sleep in. But she’s leaving for the summer, so that has to weigh heavily in the decision. And before anyone says anything, Mrs. the Poet spends most of the summer in Upstate NY every year, and has since we moved to TX back in 1989.

Not as warm but still hot

There has been a slight reduction in dry-bulb temperature, but the humidity has increased to compensate for it on the heat index. Current office temperature 86°F drybulb outside 93°, and heat index is 99°. This is still several degrees cooler than last week, except the office temperature. I’m still looking at various window units to keep the office chill, prices have ranged from $129+ tax to about $250+ tax. Mrs. the Poet and I will discuss the budget this week because she’s leaving Tuesday of next week after Father’s Day.

Another financial note, my Dad left a financial instrument in the trust that requires I take money every month when I hit 60, so we are setting up an account to take the automatic deposit from this thing this week. It had been auto depositing to Dad’s checking account until he died, and because I’m the elder brother I have to take the money now. Based on my life expectancy we have to take a minimum of $100/mon. This will help, and Mrs. the Poet deciding that this money should go directly to me so I get something to spend on myself and cover my expenses, like my phone and comic books, and bus fare for things like Lab Rat Keeper and RPG Group. Stuff that’s just for me would be covered by this money, stuff like AC in my office we cover out of family finds because that gives multiple places in the house to cool off and also lets the bedroom be cool enough to sleep at night because the heat from my office isn’t radiating into it. Seriously, the rooms on the west side of the house are like saunas in the summer because of the setting sun baking in after the heat of the day. And until codes said otherwise the hedges in front did a great job of keeping off the sun. Then codes said there was a limit on hedges that are taller than the windows and the afternoon sun has streamed in ever since.

On other news, I think I might have found a source for a cheap engine for the Sprint-T. Pentastar powered Chargers, Challengers and trucks frequently go for less than a thousand dollars at local auctions when they have Salvage titles. All I need is the thousand dollars and a truck to haul it home. So still a total fantasy at this point, but a fantasy with the cruel edge of near attainability. Which makes it even crueler because it dangles just out of reach, and I can see other people getting it instead of me. That’s the real turn of the knife, watching other people walk away with my fantasy. It’s a real good thing I am not suicidal, because I know I’ll just hurt and not die, because if I was suicidal shit like this would send me over the edge. “That thing you have wanted for over half a century? Here are other people getting the things you need to have it almost every day for cheap, but you can’t have it.” And it all comes down to that one thing I don’t have any extra of, money.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not deprived. I have a fairly comfortable house, plenty to eat, a bed that doesn’t try to kill me, access to entertainment, stuff unimaginable just a few years ago like mobile internet in the palm of my hand, with access to billions of songs for free after paying for general access, and a communication channel that gives me direct access to POTUS. Now getting him to pay attention to what I’m saying is another story but I can still DM POTUS. And in theory he can answer, with something other than “New phone, who dis?” I just can’t have that one thing I have been pursuing since childhood, and it irks and nettles me.

Why are people so stupid?

I’m reading on and off line about recent meetings in Texas to do something about school shootings. Never in any of these meetings did they discuss any proposals to keep kids from getting guns in general, or mass murdermachines in specific, that is semiautomatic weapons with removable magazines that can send dozens of rounds downrange in seconds, hundreds in a few minutes.

Instead the conversations are about porn, and too many doors in schools, and psychiatric medications (Point of order, the meds generally come after getting diagnosed with problems, not before). Nothing about keeping weapons of mass destruction out of the hands of children. It’s as if there is nothing that can be done to prevent mass shootings, but with some bandaids we can mitigate the body count.

Well, there is something we can do about it. First and foremost we can ban the manufacture, import, and sale of semiautomatic weapons with removable magazines so that kids can’t get them. I keep hearing that this is impossible, because people will break that law. Well, people break laws all the time, but that’s why we have law enforcement. Now this would not take away guns currently in possession of private owners, they just would not be allowed to sell or give them away. When the owners of these weapons died or got tired of owning them, the guns would be seized and destroyed. Mind you for this to work all these guns would have to be registered, with possession of an unregistered semiauto resulting in a hefty fine and possibly a prison sentence. And it won’t get rid of all the guns, but it will sharply curtail kids and crazies from getting them. And as the supply dwindles the black market prices will skyrocket beyond the resources of kids and crazies, unless they are fabulously wealthy. I mean Koch brothers wealthy, not Powerball winner wealthy.

Furball Assassin

Grey and black furball
With the heart of an assassin,
Stalks dangerous prey.
He attacks!
With vicious abandon.
And that is why
I’m wearing combat boots
In the house.

Long very hot day getting stuff done

And it would have been less hot and not as long had I not been using DART. OK it was still nearly 100°F no matter what mode of transportation I was using to get around and I would have been just as hot outside of an air-conditioned space, but my exposure time would have been a lot less if DART had decent headways.

The sad part is I never got more than a mile away from Casa de El Poeta all day. If the temperature had been a little less I would have spent less time getting from A to B and been more comfortable doing it, except that over 2 mile slog from the phone store to the nail salon. Today’s itinerary was walk to the phone store, catch the bus after paying my mobile bill and ride to the nail place to get my toes done, then catch the bus back to the stop closest to home. Where it began to go south was missing the bus by a few minutes at the phone store, resulting in over 40 minutes waiting in the heat for the next bus, and watching the bus go by as I left the nail salon, resulting in almost a mile walk back to the house. I maxed out Sweatcoin collection, but I also maxed out sweat in the heat.

Now for those wondering why I don’t cut my own toenails, part of the annoying cocktail of nerve and muscle damage I got from the wreck is the piggies that had no roast beef and went “Wee, wee” all the way home curl up under my foot when I need to trim them. I can’t stay in the position needed to pull them out from under my foot and hold them where I can cut the nails before I pass out from lack of oxygen. I’m literally laying out against my thigh with my knee under my chin to be able to get hands where they need to be to get hold of the toes and get the clippers on the nails, which compresses my abdomen such that I can’t draw breath. So rather than struggle against hypoxia I pay to get my toes done by a professional, about every 3 months. And I think I write a similar sentence every time I write about having to get my toes done.

Buy me a coffee with my ko-fi button

I finally subscribed to a creator funding site intended to keep us sweaty keyboard jockeys among the living. If you would be so kind as to click the Ko-fi button on the bottom right of the page you will buy a Venti at Big Bucks Koffee, or the equivalent from my local shop that’s within walking distance instead of a $2.50 bus ride.

So that’s how it happened

Something that has been bothering me for almost 17 years has been how I was dead, and then I was telling people to be careful because I had broken the upper end of my femur, and how I went from no pulse or respiration to Chatty Cathy. I think I might have mentioned a few times that when I have a problem I never really let it go, it just gets put in the back of my mind until I solve it.

Well, I think I solved this one. The first two times I was hit with/by trucks I was hit from the side, so I got bruises and torn pants and skinned up, but never got the wind knocked out of me. Well the last truck got me from behind and my chest and back smashed the cab so that aside from the blood and lack of plant matter it could be convincingly said a tree fell on the truck. That impact compressed my chest considerably farther than any impact I had ever felt before, enough to knock all the wind outta me, and also stop my heart because it was squeezing my heart. So for about 2 minutes I wasn’t breathing, and I had barely enough heartbeat to keep my brain alive, but not enough to detect by palpation, or to quote The Princess Bride “mostly dead, but not all dead”. When they tried to scrape me off the street enough air came in I could breathe and advise them that I was not dead yet and to be careful of the broken leg. This also explains why I didn’t get the tour when I hit the afterlife. Afterlife is for people who are all dead. Mostly dead people get the waiting room, to see if they die all the way or come back to life, and the TV in the waiting room is 3D and set on the Universe Channel and they don’t bother to tell you how it works because you aren’t going to be there long enough to change the channel anyway. I still wanna know who the guy who was telling me to become one with the universe was. Was he like me, mostly dead, but got there sooner, or was he watching to see if I stayed dead before starting my tour of the afterlife?

In a way I’m glad, because I still have the customer loyalty card from Charon’s Ferry, and also I’m you know not dead. But still I have questions about the customer loyalty card, the waiting room, the other guy, and just WTF did I experience. The fact that I did not have a heartbeat prevented me from bleeding out of the massive holes in my leg, and got me as far as the waiting room. But the lack of answers to questions for over 16 years bothers me.

It’s getting hot in here, again

“… so take off all your clothes.”

Current office temperature is 85°F with the AC going. I really need to use the extra $$ from the insurance payment withdrawal to get a new AC unit for the office, or the bedroom. I don’t want to be selfish, because I can live with an office temperature below 90°F as long as I have a fan going and the old AC unit does blow up a storm. And moving the clock with the thermometer to the bedroom has shown a drop of a full degree in about 10 minutes, and 2 degrees in about a half an hour. Knowing the response time for this particular thermometer I can safely say that the bedroom is roughly 80°F at the hottest part of the day, and high 70s at night. Mrs. the Poet and I can sleep when it’s like that, but the electronics in my office don’t perform well with sustained 85° temperatures. So, Mrs. the Poet says put the new AC in my office instead of our bedroom.

And I’m running out of cold water, and the laptop is warning about overheating. That’s my cue to cut this one short.

Am I creative because I’m depressed…

Or am I depressed because I’m creative? There is literally a plague of depression in the creative class, so that it looks like you have to be depressed to be creative.

In my case depression came first as a side effect of the PTSD I got as a military brat during the Cold War. Seriously, we should have gotten a medal for what the DOD put us through. “Hostile environment” does not even begin to describe what dependants endured in public schools outside military bases. My family was lucky, because of what my dad did we spent most of our time out in the boonies where they hadn’t developed a hatred of the base that technically didn’t exist. I mean, who expects a Navy base in Nebraska, or rural Washington state away from the water?

But my depression is not why I’m posting today. There are a bunch of other people who are not doing so good. I’m not naming names because it’s not my place, even though they left statements on their web sites about their conditions. Seriously, look beyond the entertainment content and into the other stuff posted on the sites for the stuff the creator wants to talk about. And some content creators are talking about their depression openly, not just me.

But that still doesn’t answer the question about whether depression and creativity are required roomies, or if you can keep the good one and send the other packing, or even not let it in to begin with. You know what? I don’t know because I don’t know for certain how early my depression started, I was displaying signs of creativity at an early age, and also signs of depression as a Junior in HS. So for me it would be very hard to tell. The only thing we know for sure is I’m depressed and creative.