Thumper: “Thelma! Thelma! I’m sliding backwards.”
Landlady: “no, you’re not.”
five minutes later …
Thumper: “Thelma! Thelma! I’m sliding backwards.”
Me: “I’ll open the door so you can slide on out.”
(He pretends not to hear me.)

The Old Lady had an invisible helper called Alfonso. “Alfonso, may I have a glass of cold water, baby, I’m thirsty.” Thumper usually doesn’t say what he wants, just calls “Thelma! Thelma!” day and night.

Happily, he is leaving on Thursday. His daughter thinks he isn’t being properly cared for. One of her complaints is that he isn’t given chocolate every day, but I never noticed her bringing a box of chocolates on her weekly visits.

Good riddance, for sure. But he did strengthen my hope that I die before I get that far gone.

June is almost gone and I still haven’t written about May which was an eventful month at the House in the Valley.

The Old Lady was taken to hospital at the beginning of the month and she died there on the morning of the 19th. Her condition was never going to improve so it was the best thing for her, but still sad news. I miss her constant “may I have a glass of cold water!”. always a demand, not a request.

Her replacement I’ll call Thumper because of his annoying habit of drumming his fingers or his entire hand on any nearby surface, or pounding his cane on the floor. He’s a 91-year-old man with advanced Alzheimer’s. Even though it’s only a few steps from his room, he can never remember where the bathroom is. And after he uses it, less than five minutes later he’s again wondering where it is. “You just came from there,” says Landlady. “I did?” he asks in disbelief.

The 17th was the fourteenth birthday of Jayvee and on that morning Princess gave birth to five adorable puppies. Sadly, one of them died on the sixth day of life. Happily, the survivors are fat and frisky and totally delightful.

Yes, an eventful month.

Big sigh of relief. After putting it off for almost a week, I finally finished filling out the forms to renew foodstamps and Medicaid. It’s the one chore in my life I really hate and it’s always tempting to just ignore it. But an hour’s work for a year’s supply of food is too good a deal, have to do it. (I know, I’m lucky to have only one such hated chore in my life.)

Wabit, in his comment to the previous Tale, wondered if I couldn’t write about characters in Lord of Ages. It’s an interesting, international group for sure. Scotland, England, the USA, Canada and Australia. There’s even a contingent from Turkey, including the best and most powerful player in the game. But there’s really not much to say about them that would interest a non-player.

I’m especially proud of John Kelly, the 15 year-old, who has become a very good player indeed, much enjoys raiding my cities after he knows I’ve gone to bed.

Speaking of which, my nocturnal life has also settled into a routine. Unless there’s something special on television, I’m in bed by ten o’clock and seem to quickly go into the first of five or six dream episodes. Sometimes they’re related but more often are totally unconnected.

The most recurring dream remains one of being in a place I’ve lived for years and having to leave the next day, with many possessions still around me. In waking life, this never happened. I gave away anything of value to friends and just abandoned the rest when I left. I suspect when I left my five-year nest at the Vanderbilt Y in NYC, it took several days for the cleaning lady to carry off all the loot.

What a long, strange trip it’s been …

Back in the saddle again …

Probably not, but two long-time readers nudged me last week, wanting an update.

You see, the thing is life has settled into a contented routine, providing nothing to write about. Of course I could do things to get material, but I’m too lazy.

I wake up at about seven in the morning, would sometimes sleep later but for two very noisy roosters in the area. I turn on the electric kettle for a cup of tea, then turn on the computer.

I check Facebook, Twitter, Hotmail and login to the Lord of Ages game which stays on all day, every day.

Now what is there to write about that?

YEAR OF THE RABBIT

My high school pal, Terry, sent a fascinating mail recounting his life through college, grad school and the Air Force, so he wasn’t put off by the Tales after all. I’m much looking forward to him continuing the story. Oddly, thus far there has not been one mention of a love interest.

I was happy to see in Len’s comment to the last post that he (aka Wabit the Wizard) is in touch with our fellow MUD2 players from the mid-eighties. I’ve only heard from him, Andy (Vishnu) and Russell (Dune). Russell is one though who definitely disappeared after being told about the Tales.

Well, the Big Holiday weekend is upon us. I hope it isn’t as weird as the recent one. The Old Lady was in the hospital for three days, including Thanksgiving. Landlady and Husband vanished on the Wednesday and it wasn’t until they returned on Monday afternoon that I learned they’d been in California. A long journey for a four-day visit.

While they were away three relatives came to stay. Two women and a young man, probably 17 or 18, tall, skinny and very cute. He wore a white mesh tanktop and shorts, a treat to the eye. Not so for the ear. He and Elder Son held raucous game sessions from early afternoon until past two in the morning. So I was very happy to see them depart on Sunday.

We’re having nonstop heavy rain day after day. Very boring. No White Christmas, here.

My best friend in High School turned up on Facebook, stirring many happy memories. Then I got an email from him saying he wanted to know what had happened to me in all the years since. I pointed him to the Tales of the Past and haven’t heard a word since. This isn’t the first time that has happened. I don’t understand it, my life hasn’t been that scandalous. Or is that just because I know how much more scandalous it could have been?

The oldest dog died yesterday afternoon. He was almost sixteen, so had a very long life. But I was saddened by his death and miss him already. The evening wasn’t the same without his irritating but endearing ritual of calling for dinner. A double bark starting with a long low one immediately followed by a high short one. Landlady’s daughter lay flowers in his empty house, bringing a tear to my eye.

The Grunter refused to eat until his blood pressure got dangerously low. Landlady called the agency and within an hour, police and ambulance arrived, took him off to the hospital. Apparently he was eventually sent to a nursing home. That’s good because he needed daily supervised physical and speech therapy if his condition was ever to improve.

His successor was BFF, as in Big Fat Faggot. Dreadful man, hideously obese and so affected. It was nauseating to hear him speak. Liberace as a whale. From the start, he complained. I heard him talking to the agency the morning after he arrived, saying he didn’t want to stay here because “the patient in the next room talked incessantly all night”. Yes, the Old Lady was in non-stop chatter mode. Fortunately my earplugs block her except for the few times she gets especially loud.

Next day he again called the agency and complained because he has to make his bed, thinks Landlady should do it. How lazy can you get! And he said that he goes out to smoke at six in the morning and the boys lock him out. I corrected him then, it’s the husband who locks the door when he goes to work. The boys don’t get up that early.

Well, he complained so much but eventually decided he wanted to stay here. Of course he had set the machinery in motion so the agency found him a place where he’ll be the only patient and he leaves tomorrow.

Good riddance.