[117] Screed City

[117]

03/18/2022 Friday. Kitchen Microwave. Beaver Haus. Lower Granville, Vermont.

Pure Vermont-style day. Woke up cold as hell. Got up. Took a leak. Looked at the thermostat. 54 F. Sighed. Got back in bed. Got back out of bed. Went down to get my phone. Naked. A goat was looking through the front door. Fainted because it was scandalized by my nudity. Just joking. I checked the thermostat downstairs. 52 F. I sighed again. Got my phone. Went back upstairs. Got back in bed. Turned the ringer on. Opened my computer to check the electronic mails and maybe read some news. No internet. I laid in bed for some time. Wishing I could go back to sleep for a while. But because the internet wasn't working my phone wasn't working either. I tried to call Professor Curly just to check. Nothing doing. I got up. Put all of my clothes on. Long johns. Socks. Pants. T-shirt. Long sleeved shirt. Hoodie. Slippers. Went downstairs. Unplugged the router. Went into the basement. Err 80 code. I turned the valve that for some reason sends water to the boiler sometimes and doesn't send water at other times. This seemed to fix the error message. I went back upstairs. Plugged the router back in. Stared at the homemade Ticklers. They had stalled. No bubbles. I plugged the oil heater in. Looked at the router. The WAN problem indicator light was orange. Not green. I sighed. Went into the kitchen. Microwaved some coffee. Went upstairs and got my computer. Spent the next hour trouble shooting the internet. To no avail. I even went outside to check the box. Not that I could do anything about anything. But I unplugged the ethernet cables and plugged them back in. Used a toothpick to hit the reset button. Nothing doing. Went back inside. Trouble shot some more. Nothing doing. Checked the heat coming out of the baseboards. Something doing. I took my coffee out of the microwave. It was cold again. Heated it up again. Trouble shooted some more. At about 10a I was about to take a shower and drive into Hancock Village to make some phone calls and suddenly the internet came back on. I called Mike's Auto to see if Junior Mint was done. That is why I needed my phone. I was thinking they would call me and I didn't want to miss the call. They said the car was ready. I sighed. They were supposed to call me yesterday but didn't for some reason. I asked how much it was going to cost. They said $191.19. Which was good. A hundred dollars less than I thought. I called the Publisher. She said "How's your internet?" I told her it was back on. She said she had been working in Hancock all morning because it was out over the whole region. They didn't bother telling anyone though. So it was a clusterfuck for everyone involved. Panic in the area. I told her Junior Mint was ready and could she give me a ride? She said yes. I said I was going to take a shower and I would be right over. I took a shower. Made a coffee for the road and hit the skids.

I had borrowed the Jeep. Just in case of emergency. No emergency happened. I drove to the Compound. The Publisher was boiling sap. There is one million gallons of the stuff now. Grit has a sleep over tonight so I think the Publisher is going to pull an all-nighter. Boil like the wind. Eat popcorn burritos. Probably pass out drunk from whiskey just before dawn. I have a shift tomorrow early afternoon while Grit and the Publisher go bowling and then pick Scott up from the airport. I mean, I hope the wood holds out. I mean, I am heading to the City around noon on Sunday so I will be no help. Sadly. I mean, this syrup business is kind of a wild ride this year. The timing is just too insane. I mean, every single time something needs to happen someone is either leaving or the weather is just pure crap and nothing can get done the way it needs to get done. I mean, I feel bad for leaving but such is life. I mean, at this point it is either the maple syrup or me and Professor Curly break up. I mean, that is a little dramatic, but it is kind of true. If I don't go down and see her now I won't see her again until maybe in May. Maybe. I mean, in theory I would have seen her irregardless this next week, but only briefly and under very stressful circumstances. So this is for the best. I mean, you don't make syrup with the time you want, you make it with the time you have. The bridesmaids have been saying that all along. I mean. If we are not ready for this business by the end of the year this year, I mean, I think we may need to rethink our approach. Or, also, I mean, it is just making syrup, so I am not so sure how much emotion needs to be involved. I mean, shit sucks sometimes. People need to make money. Until we are making money on this endeavor it is going to be hard to treat it as anything other than a delicious hobby. I mean, all three of us are fighting like hell for it, but it is what it is. I mean, no matter what we will get gallons of syrup. I think last year we got 19 gallons. But that was with Scott manning the evaporator like taking care of a grandpa on death watch.

I mean, the Publisher threw in a full belly of wood. Topped off the drip tank. And we drove to Middlebury to pick up Junior Mint from the pipe doctor. When we got there I jumped out. The Publisher asked if she should wait for me. Make sure I was alright. I said no. There was no reason. They said it was finished. If it wasn't finished I would just wait. She hauled ass back to the Compound.

I walked inside. I stood in the lobby waiting for someone to talk to me. I looked at the pictures dangling around the joint. There was this guy that said hello to me outside that I recognized in the pictures. He must have been Mike's son. Mike Junior, I supposed. I mean, Mike Senior seemed to have four children. Three daughters and a son. Which, I mean, Mike Senior seems like a profession kind of guy. He was the one that took my keys when I dropped the car off on Thursday. He didn't talk politics and had some sort of confidence about him. I realized Mike Junior was the same person that I talked to on the phone earlier today. And on Monday when I called to get an appointment. He was very clueless and insecure. I mean, he asked me how I was doing and I said:

"I am doing great. The weather is nice. The car is fixed, and not only that but it is costing me a hundred dollars less than I thought." He said:

"Well, that is great news. I am glad we could be of service." I signed a paper he put in front of me. That I didn't need to sign it turned out. I mean, I asked him what the date was and he didn't know. Then we both kind of fumbled with our phones and found out it was the 18th. But he didn't tell me I didn't need to sign the paper. So when he stapled the card receipt to the thing I signed I felt like a jack-ass. I mean, I didn't need to sign my copy of the report. But whatever. What sucked worse was he was a jack-ass himself. He asked me if I was paying with cash or a card. I said a card, but I keep meaning to carry cash around with me because it is better and he said:

"Yeah, we give a little discount with cash. You know, stick it to Biden a little bit." I did a fake laugh. I mean, what the fuck? How the hell is hiding taxes from the Government sticking it to Biden? Did they not do that when Trump was president? Is this not a practice that has existed since the beginning of credit card machines? Is it not so much the taxes that they are hiding but more the credit card companies charging shitty fees for conducting business? American Capitalism at it's finest? I mean, the taxes on my thing was $2.15. I mean, if they wanted to make it cheaper for me they would reduce the labor charges, right? I mean, he did not want to make it cheaper for me, he just wanted to complain about the Government. Which is valid! The Government should crack down on fees from these vultures. It is the same with ATM fees. I mean, what the fuck was he talking about? And not only that, but I went to him instead of JD because of this bullshit rhetoric that makes no sense. I mean, the flex pipe cost $30. All the other money was just labor. WHICH! I think they are totally valid for charging. I mean, what the fuck was he talking about? I mean, I paid and got the hell out of there. As I was walking to Junior Mint I saw a bumper sticker that said "Save America Trump 2024" and I sighed. I mean, Vermont, as annoying as the people are, they really do do their best for the working class. I mean, gas is cheaper here. They don't charge tax on food. Health care is available for poor people. I mean, it really is America's Norway. But these idiots just have no clue. And I don't know what to do about it. I mean, the logic they use to twist themselves into pretzels for no good fucking reason is really something. I mean, I don't even think they understand that people like me are literally begging for somebody else, anyone else, to open a shop that doesn't insist on bad politics that I can go to. I mean, even if they think the stupid shit they think, that is fine by me. Just keep your fucking mouth shut. You are not owning my lib tears or whatever the hell they think they are doing. They are just opening up an avenue of new businesses to come around and put them out of business. I mean, I can see Mike Junior working at Hannaford's in a couple years. Complaining about how the Bernie caused all of his problems. When really his problems are just not keeping his idiot mouth shut. I mean, what the hell do I know? I would easily pay and extra $20 dollars for somebody to fix my flex pipe if I didn't have to feel like that money was going to White Fundamentalist Christian Nationalist that were planning the destruction of America because, I don't know? The Civil War happened and Black people deserve to be treated like human beings? I just don't get it. I mean, America has a lot of problems. But the Idea of America is beautiful. I believe in it still. I mean, these people actually hate America. Every action they take proves that. And it is getting really fucking old.

I drove away being annoyed. But Junior Mint sounded great. Quiet as a babies whistle. As the bridesmaids say. I went to the Hannaford's to get some coffee and some coffee filters. My mask broke the second I walked inside. I looked around. 50% of the people were mask-less. The people who weren't were old and looked kind of scared. I felt bad. For them. I mean, that is the whole point of the masks. To keep the vulnerable safe and healthy. But what can you do? We already beat this thing. Four times now. And we will beat it again this next time. And the time after that. I mean, I don't even know. It is over. This next round of booster shots is not going to be free. Then what? People die like crazy. The Government panics. They make the booster's free about two months too late. I mean, it is like those tests. I finally got the tests that Professor Curly ordered. Two months later. What fucking good are they now? I mean, I will get a chance to use them the next time a juicy variant comes around, but still. That was never the point. I mean, I was so very impressed with how well the vaxxes came out. How organized it was. But now we got the great big Right Wing anchor bogging us down all over again. Under-fund shit to prove that shit doesn't work. I mean, who the hell thinks to themselves "I am of the party that makes life super miserable because these damn liberals just want to help out the working class. Fuck the working class! Oh, shit. I am working class. But still. They don't want to have the bible in hotels anymore. Republicans rule! What? It's not the Government that took the bibles out of hotels? It was Capitalism? So what! The bible rules! Tear gas the protesters! Freedem!"

Anyway. I checked out at the Hannaford's. I didn't have any bags so I had to buy one. For some reason the person putting my groceries in the bag I bought needed to give me commentary on what I bought. She said:

"You going to do some day drinking? Nice day like this?" For some reason I said:

"Oh nooooo!" I mean, I had no plans to day drink. I was only buying Ticklers because I was at the grocery store and I knew I would probably want them at some point. Lord knows that my homemade Ticklers had stalled. I mean, what the hell is up with people these days? I mean, I like it when it happens at Hannaford's because that scene is very weird. They don't bring politics into it. They just bring bongo commentary. Like some sort of comedy club. Like:

"What's up with day drinking? Am I right? You gonna fry up that steak and have a little hang-about on your lawn? I mean, I would join you but I got all these groceries to pack. Hey Brenda! Can I get an approval on aisle six? I mean, are you a member of the Hannaford's club? If not, you should be, am I right?"

It was very strange. I mean, I walked out of the place a little disoriented. But that happens every time.

I took the groceries to Junior Mint. Put them in the trunk. Started to haul ass back home. Remembered I needed gas. I had to wait for the light to change, then I had to wait for traffic to turn into the gas station. But I had drove past the turn so I had to turn around in the parking lot of the Dollar General. I filled up my tank. Feeling like a millionaire. I mean, I didn't. But I wasn't worried about it. I mean, I had just spent $60 dollars at Hannaford's. $191.19 at Mike's Auto. And now I was spending $60 dollars at the pump. I mean, living the American dream. Money, money, money. I won't lie, I was hungry, and I almost stopped at McDonald's to get some artery clogging weight gain. But I didn't. I drove to the oil change place and decided to treat Junior Mint to a spa day. I mean, I put $5 dollars into the machine and washed him down like he was a prince. All the mud. All the salt. I mean, I needed it as much as he did. And who knows. The canyon on the way back was wet and probably did as much damage as I erased, but so what? If I could I would wash that car every single day. I mean, I know it doesn't make a difference, but still. I would rather try than do nothing at all. I mean, I understand that salt doesn't corrode metal unless it is wet, but still, salt draws moisture from the air and Vermont is moist as fuck. Even when it is dry it is wet. I mean, we are not in some high desert here. Doing something is better than doing nothing. I mean, it felt good. For me and for Junior Mint. I mean, I did sigh when I went through the canyon. But what can you do?

Either way. I got a phone call this morning from some random number. I picked the phone call up thinking it was Scam Likely. But it was not. It was some gal from some phone center that was maybe or maybe not in America. I put the call on speaker phone and started to fuck with them. Then they said:

"Are you not Joseph? Did you not buy two speakers?" I mean, I did not buy two speakers. I was getting worried. Like maybe somebody was using my card to buy speakers.

"I am Joseph, but I did not buy two speakers, what the hell are you talking about?"

"You bought two speakers and they are too big. Are you not, let me see, Joseph Truman?"

"I am Joseph Truman, but I did not buy two speakers. And what do you mean they are too big?" I mean, the woman was very patient with me, but she also did not speak English as her first language. I mean, I thought she was Indian, but what the hell do I know.

"The speakers you ordered are too big. They need to be two inches."

"Two inch speakers? What do you mean?"

"I am from UPrinting. Your speakers are too big."

"Oh! My stickers! My stickers are too big!"

"Yes, your stickers."

"Oh, I thought you were saying I bought speakers that were too big! The stickers, I mean, usually you guys give me a choice about what the stickers look like and this time I got nothing."

Anyway. There is no more information I need to convey from the phone call. I mean, it was all just a big misunderstanding. But I had bought some stickers for the Donkey's the other day and the woman was just checking in about the proof. I mean, I was able to get on the internet and fix the problem, but it was funny that normally I would have just ignored the call and since I was feeling randy I accidentally fixed a problem I didn't even know I was having. I mean, some times answering your phone is a good idea. Not only that, but I only answered it because I thought it was Mike's Auto. I mean, whatever. I would gladly deal with a non-English speaker on the phone than a dick like Mike Junior. I mean, at least we are trying to meet on the same level playing field. Communication-wise. I mean, good faith. Mike Junior on the other hand. He would blame Biden for that phone call. I mean, sure. Maybe stickers shouldn't be so cheap that they out-source their HR department to women in India, but I very much think that is not something that the "Right To Work" party is going to fix. If you want everything cheaper and right now, I mean, at the expense of local business, I mean, you get what you deserve. I mean, in Mike Junior's world we would get everything from Walmart and Amazon and places like his auto shop would not exist anymore. And, I mean, say what you will about politics, but we, the American Left, we have nothing but Silver Bullets, we just don't have any fucking guns.

Anyway. On a last note. Guess who called it about Bono? I mean, that was a little on the nose, right? Read this:

[insert Daily Mail take down of Bono and Pelosi]

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-10626995/Bono-ridiculed-unhinged-poetry-Ukraine-Nancy-Pelosi-read-St-Patricks-Day.html

What the ever-living hell? I mean, the part where an actual poet said that the soldiers should put sunflower seeds in their pockets so that when they are killed a plant will grow up from where their body rotted in the soil? But Bono was instead calling Silenskyy the Saint Patrick of our time because he made Putin go to bed without dinner? I mean, that sanctions should be put on Bono because of this poem. I mean, I hate to say it, but the one thing the Right does that is actual comedy is the newspapers they make. I mean, I stopped reading the NY Post because they got so very fucking racist. And the Daily Mail comes very close to going over that line. But when they do things like this, I will give it to them. I mean, it doesn't help anything, but it hits the nail exactly on the head. I mean, one day these papers will be funny again. And I can read them without feeling like a huge asshole. And when that day comes I will know that the world is all right again. But until that day comes, I will allow myself a little pleasure while I watch the violinist engulfed in flames as Rome burns. I mean, I mean.