When you’re the master of the off-chance

Today, I thought I’d return to home improvements. I’ve been installing moulding a door that’s been hung but the shims haven’t been cut down and the moulding hasn’t been done, so that’s nearly done. The master bedroom closet was a total piece of crap. I had to bolster the wood rod in the middle, but it’s really just not doing the job.


That’s just barely functional. And I so can’t deal with all the not used space. So after two hours at the Container Store yesterday. Thirty minutes designing and buying my stuff, 90 minutes waiting for it to come up because they have the largest shrinkage in Walnut Creek of all the Container Stores and the whole freaking world and they have to count everything three times before it goes out. Once when they pull it, and then it’s checked twice. That is 90 minutes of my life I will never get back.  I drank coffee, I wandered around, I poked in other store windows, I paced, I talked on my cell, I paced some more, I drank more coffee, looked in more store windows, wandered over to Crate and Barrel, paced some more, badgered and cajoled and then my stuff showed up. Unfortunately, I was right there so they didn’t buzz me with their buzzer thing and it’s now sitting on my dresser. Apparently, I can mail it back from any post office. Here’s the bizarre part of the whole thing. It took less time to tear out the shelf, ridge and bar and build the new closet, than it did to pick it up.



Rita has been running non-stop all day. No wonder I can’t keep any weight on this dog. She runs it off as quick as I feed it to her. It’s going to be a long summer. She won’t come in until the sun goes down. She’s going to weigh 35 pounds by the end of summer and I’ll be feeding her a half dozen eggs, pound of chuck, three cups of Evo and she still won’t hold weight.


If you were here, you would hear the utter silence of a Stealth Doberman. She’s learned that she can stalk the squirrels and she almost got one earlier just from being quiet. No, I don’t know who screwed her nose on sideways.

And not to be outdone, here’s the most amazing guy around. He’s nine years old and just didn’t get the memo.


No pallete still, no wine talk. Maybe by the end of the week I’ll be able to taste again. Friday night I had Camaron la Diabla. I soaked it in hot sauce and still couldn’t taste it. This virus has really been a punk. For the locals, if you get it, take it easy, it’s just a mutha. And drink bourbon. Trust me on that.