November 25, 2016

Black Friday Matters – but, only if there is a trend in denim or consumer electronics; otherwise, it doesn't. As of five-fifteen this evening, I have received 77 Black Friday emails, none of which I've opened, and all of which I've trashed.

​I have worked out three days this week. I haven't worked out since March. Monday, the first day, was tough. I alternated jumping rope and lifting weights for 10 sets. I started with 50 jumps, and I worked up to 70 today. I do 20 reps each of biceps, triceps, chest-flys, shoulder presses, and rows, repeating each to make 10 sets. I took Tuesday and Wednesday off to go to Charleston, but I walked a fair amount around the city each day.

I pealed the Lexel off the hot water joint and replaced it with marine putty. It took me over an hour to get most of the Lexel off because I could neither see what I was doing nor use tools. Likewise, I had to apply the putty by feel. It needed 15 minutes set, but I gave it over an hour. If this doesn't work, I will give up. Really. I mean it. Maybe.

Today, I walked two miles to do four loads of laundry. I did four loads of laundry because: 1) Jasper barfed on two blankets; 2) I bathed him and his sister; and, 3) I couldn't deal with looking at the dirty clothes in my hamper. I did four loads of laundry today in spite of the distance and the heat because I'm a fucking whack-job-OCD-cleaner. After I bathed the dogs, I sprayed the shower with bleach because it was starting to smell like Florida. After I did the laundry, I vacuumed and mopped the floor. And to think that “normal” people are out shopping!

I saw a man unfold his Greyhound from the back of his Honda Fit. I think he needs a bigger car.

The multi-generational family next to me, which had whittled itself down to the mother and father, left today. The other day the man grumbled a greeting to me after I said, "Good Morning," to him. The wife and I never "encountered" each other. The chain-smoker married to the man with the buddy still hasn’t acknowledged me. Is it so hard to say hello to strangers?

A 1967 VW Camper Bus is parked two sites to my left. I was hanging some pants on my drying rack behind BOB (because it's sunniest there), when I saw the driver and asked if I could see his rig. The exterior is pristine, and the two-tone paint job must have cost him a fortune. The interior has beautiful woodwork, but it and the man both need to be cleaned badly. He's from Canada, and he has been full-timing for over a year with his elderly, extremely hairy, overweight Australian shepherd. The VW has been getting a lot of attention from passersby, and it deserves it.

I had a nice chat with a retired banker who was doing his and his wife’s laundry. There are only four washers and two dryers for 298 sites, so I was washing while he was drying. He folded each item as he removed it from the dryer, including his underwear and hers. Hers were bigger. I make sure that no one sees my lingerie. I wash it in lingerie bags and take my bras back to BOB where I hang them in the Florida-smelling shower. My underwear gets dried in the lingerie bag. We all know that many men are titillated by lingerie, and I don't want to incur any fans. Likewise, I would rather not know whether a guy wears boxers or briefs. What was Bill Clinton's answer? Oh, I really don't want to know!

I'm surprised by the number of RVs that came into the park today. I have a new neighbor to my left who I heard tell a couple that "we left northern Michigan yesterday." I saw him drive in with his German short-haired pointer, but I didn't see a woman with them. When he used the plural, I assumed that a woman would appear imminently. There are so few of us solo travelers that I always assume every driver has a human passenger. Now, I realize that his plural subject referred to his dog and him. Oddly enough, we have three solo RVers in a row – the Canadian, him, and me.

I sent Jean a text to let her know that I had the windows open and the AC running. She called me immediately upon receiving it. I assumed that she was calling to call me a bitch, but she was calling to tell me the travails of her day. The cold, grey weather in Upstate New York was the least of her problems. Jean spent the day with her mother who has dementia, and for whom simple things like eating are arduous for both of them.

The man leaf-blew his site, emptied the fire pit, set it ablaze, cleaned the turkey roaster, packed up the two table-top gas grills, and set up a crockpot. The TV is still out, and football is on the screen. He, is my television.

Florence Henderson died yesterday of heart failure. Her appearance on "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" in 2014 was hysterical. Her 2012 autobiography revealed she was much racier than “Mrs. Brady.” Funny stuff.

Seventy-nine Black Friday emails.

Eight-two Black Friday emails.

I’ve been re-watching "The Gilmore Girls" season four. Since a TV mini-series set nearly a decade later is being released, I wanted to return to Yale with Rory and Lorelei. Alexis Bledel is so beautiful that she could just drum her lips and I would watch her. How do girls like her happen? Lauren Graham is stunning as well, but the repartee between her and Bledel is what made the show fantastic. Who has a mother like that? No one. Who wants a mother like that? Everyone.
Eighty-eight Black Friday emails. I opened none of them.