Aside from looking at the millions of items, large and small in this house and wondering if it is even possible to move them — where would we go? There are things we don’t like about New England, pretty much all of which involve weather.
Cold weather. Snowy weather.
But I love the people, the rivers, the green of it. I love the old barns and I even love Boston, even though I don’t want to live there anymore.
So relocate? Not happening. Whatever inconveniences come with the winter, there’s really no place I’d rather be — except maybe a small, clean house without steps and a lot fewer trees!
I keep reading about how Trump is going to be impeached. Meanwhile, I keep thinking two presidents were impeached: Andrew Johnson and William J. Clinton. Neither was removed from office. It was more like a bad mark on their permanent record than getting expelled. They were harder on Harry Potter than either impeached President.
This doesn’t mean I had or have anything against Bill Clinton (I liked him a lot) except the whole thing about men and their zippers and how come they can’t just keep them zipped — at least until they get out of office. Would it really kill them to not screw someone inappropriate for a few years? Men can be such pigs. But I digress.
I do not think Trump will be impeached. “Why not?” you ask.
Because the Senate doesn’t want to. Even if Democrats utterly wipe the floor with Republicans in 2018 by winning EVERY available seat in the Senate, it does not mean the Senate will impeach Trump. And if they did, why does everyone assume that impeachment would unseat Trump? It hasn’t unseated the two presidents who were impeached. The only thing that can unseat a president are “high crimes and misdemeanors” for which there exists no clear, current definition.
Moreover, a GOP-dominated — or even a Senate with a substantial percentage of them — does not have to act on impeachment. Regardless of the outcome of any investigation, now or in the future, there is no mandate to do anything about it. And yet, despite the ineffectiveness of previous impeachment procedures, everyone is convinced that this time, it will be different.
Why? What would make this time different than before? What new law is on the books? What new interpretation of “crimes the president can commit” exists?
I’m as unhappy as anyone about the state of the nation, but I’m a pragmatist. The harder I look at it, the more I’m convinced this is another not-happening event. Senators aren’t going to take him down. For way too many of them, it would be the same as taking themselves down.
If we are all very lucky, Mueller’s investigations will take down many of his Trump’s cronies. Which maybe will improve the situation a little bit. But eliminating Trump? You think so? If you think so, I’d like to hear why you think so. Based on what? Because I want to believe. I really do.
In the end, I believe that ending this disaster will rest with us. Voters. In 2018 and 2020. If we cannot stand together and sweep the bastards out of office, life in these United States is going to get increasingly ugly and frightening.
Talk to me. Tell me I’m wrong. Convince me I’m crazy or I just don’t understand the situation.
It had already been an uncharacteristically hectic week for Harold, so he looked forward to a relaxing Wednesday. After he finished his morning breakfast, he took the newspaper to a nice spot by the window and sat down to read. He was only distracted momentarily by the library’s copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone sitting on the table. It seemed to beckon to him to continue the journey of the boy wizard. There was a time set aside for that sort of reading and he imagined he would resume the fanciful tale at the library where it began.
The time idled by in a leisurely sort of way that was befitting of a man in retirement. With the completion of each article, Harold looked out the window approvingly. The sun was shining, the air was at peace and so was Harold. He continued to read right up to the noon hour when it was time to get ready for the twice weekly sojourn to the Wild West Restaurant and Sports Bar. Harold would dress in his best sports clothes since he knew his appearance was important. All of the help and many of the patrons were well aware of the 1 PM arrival every Wednesday and Saturday of the well-organized man from the Midwest.
Harold arrived at the door of the restaurant precisely at 1. He thought he was the picture of sartorial excellence when in truth he was rather plain, but certainly clean and well-groomed. As usual, the staff greeted him with kindness and even enthusiasm as he headed to the same general area where he always sat for lunch. His seat by the window was taken but he chose another that was just as bright and allowed for a good view of a television. ESPN was playing for Harold, minus sound.
“Hello,” said a voice that startled Harold. “My name is Amber and I will be your waitress today.” The young woman had an armful of tattoos and maroon colored hair. Her jeans were a bit ripped on the backside. She did not look a thing like the sweet Tiffany who usually waited on Harold. “May I start you off with a drink? We have Summer Surprise on tap. It is a seasonal beer we have on tap for just four dollars.” Amber worked her chewing gum quite hard as she waited for a response from the average looking old guy from another one of the nearby retirement areas.
“Tea,” Harold proclaimed. “I will have an ice tea with lemon on the side and 1 packet of sweetener.” With that Amber was off without taking Harold’s food order. Things were not exactly routine, but a little out of the ordinary would be OK with Harold. Amber soon returned, took the order and things were nicely on track for a peaceful meal.
As Harold watched the television without the sound, a noise came bellowing across the room. “Harold! Why you old son of a gun!” It was Bill, Harold’s neighbor from down the street. “What brings you here, besides the cheap lunch?” Harold did not consider the lunch cheap, but rather as economical. He also could not imagine what he did to invite Bill into his life twice in the same week. With that, Bill sat down opposite Harold.
“I just stopped in for lunch, that’s all,” Harold exclaimed. “I like the food here and the people are nice.” Bill nodded in agreement and then a brilliant idea popped into Bill’s head.
“You know, Harold, we could ride over here together on Wednesdays. You can enjoy your,” Bill paused as Amber set down Bill’s lunch, “whatever, and I can try out their other items. It will be great.” With that, Bill got up, slapped Harold on the back and said, “See ya buddy, I gotta go. I’ll call you Monday to see if you are up for our little shopping tour.”
Bill was off as quickly as he arrived. He made comments to each of the waitresses as he headed toward the door and soon the place was just a bit quieter. Harold shook his head slowly as peace returned to the table in what was his favorite spot in the room. Having Bill enter his routine once in the week was quite a lot, but twice might be more than poor, old Harold could handle. He felt he just had to limit his time with Bill. “Perhaps,” he thought, “I should switch my Wednesday lunch hour.” It was not going to make a difference.
When lunch was finished, Amber wandered over and gave a disinterested smile and left the check. She did not write her name on the back or add a smiley face as Tiffany would have done. Harold paid with his favorite bank credit card that gave cash back rewards, including 2x points for restaurants in the current month, and smiled at Amber as she brought the receipt. Harold was to hope there would be no more unscheduled adventure for the rest of the week. He had no idea what the following days would add to his otherwise perfectly planned schedule.
What household chore do you absolutely hate doing?
All of them. No, really. I hate them all. Dusting is probably the worst because it’s pointless. I can see the dust settling down as I’m clearing it off. I did get some great spray on bathroom cleaner that has really improved that process. Spray it on the tiles and the tub and go take care of the rest of your life. Whenever you come back — no timing involved — it will clean itself with your next shower.
I scrubbed the kitchen floor. We changed the covers on the sofas. Vacuumed the rug and the stairway. I changed the duvet and cover and put new sheets on the bed. The living room is slightly less hairy, but I figure by tomorrow, it’ll look as if it were never cleaned.
The tree is nice, though. Cheerful. I’m still pondering buying some wrapping paper for presents. I really ought to do that before there aren’t any.
At what time in your recent past have you felt most passionate and alive?
That is a cruel question for an aging woman. Probably the last time I got that shooting pain in the bones of my chest, probably from changing the comforter and doing all that cleaning.
Nothing makes me feel more alive than a few seconds of sheer agony.
How many times have you moved in the last ten years?
None. We are planted in this house. They will have to carry us away.
What inspired you or what did you appreciate this past week?
We went to the doctor and have learned that is likely Garry can get a cochlear implant. Maybe two. We aren’t there yet, however. There are more tests to run, insurance to be navigated. Schedules to meet.
If it’s a “go,” Garry should be able to hear. We aren’t there yet. I don’t want to get too excited about anything until we are sure it will happen, but it is looking good.
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