Ripper: I don’t know how well I could stand up under torture. 

Mandrake: Well of course the answer to that is, boy, no one ever does. And my advice to you, Jack, is to give me the code now. And if those devils come back and try any rough stuff, we’ll fight them together, boy, like we did just now, on the floor, eh? You with the old gun, and me with the belt and the ammo, feeding you, Jack! Feed me, you said, and I was feeding you, Jack.

—Dr. Strangelove: or,
How I learned to stop worrying and love the bomb

The past week has been hectic. The bill came for the roof repairs (sadly, I guessed the price correctly, not Gary), we paid the bill, and then a light rain revealed the leaks were not only worse than before but in places they had not even occurred before. So far they have not returned our call.

We spent a pleasant night at the Kennedy School in Portland, had a good meal there, soaked in the hotel’s outdoor pool, picked up two oak chairs off the street (free to good home), painted, drove a load of furniture over in a U-Haul (thank you, Ian), more painting, drive home, and then Gary managed to back into the outdoor stairs. Only the U-Haul and Gary’s pride were injured, and we picked up every crumb of safety glass (very pretty in the sunshine). That was yesterday. When Gary went out to rinse off our shoes after our walk this morning he found seven trucks parked off-site but all attached to the house being “remodeled” next door since January.

Okay, sorry/not sorry, but whining commences…

So far from that building site: three boards through our roof; a massive tarp (20×50 feet?) flapping over our heads in full gale winds that Gary had to deal with since there was no one onsite to do it; shreds of plastic, tarp, and a roof jack blown onto our roof; runoff invading our garage; at least two nail/screw-punctured tires (ours and a neighbor’s); damaged gutter; literally pounds of nails and screws picked up out of the street by everyone except the contractor’s crew; and obvious issues for parking, deliveries, and trash pick-up because everyone working here drives a truck or panel truck and mostly parks everywhere but in the driveway. Not to mention a Port-a-potty in the street and both trash and building materials piled in the street (in front of neighbors’ homes too) since January. “With all due respect” I was warned that Gary’s removal of building trash from over our drains could not have been done without stepping on the property and could have led to problems for the owner, had Gary injured himself. So could boards flying off his roof and through ours. “Yikes.”

[“With all due respect” is one of those terms that means the exact opposite of what it says, and “yikes” in an email was not an adequate response to 2x4s and a roof jack flying through the roof over my head.]

In the meantime, my youngest brother-in-law believes the CDC is going to put millions of American into forced-labor camps. He is rabidly pro-Trump (most of the time); believes the covid pandemic is a hoax or maybe created by China, by our own government, or by Democrats in particular, but that the vaccine will change our DNA or magnetize our arms; that Jimmy Carter is evil; and that Democrats will take away his benefits or put him in the labor camp for failing to be vaccinated. He also immediately repeated Ron DeSantis’s lie: “Joe Biden has the nerve to tell me to get out of the way on COVID while he lets COVID-infected migrants pour over our southern border by the hundreds of thousands.” [Absolutely untrue.] Cases are escalating in Florida where DeSantis has vigorously opposed measures to halt the outbreak. Naturally, he does not trust mainstream news.

He is a paranoid schizophrenic (my bother-in-law, can’t say about DeSantis). I don’t know what excuse the rest of them have. An op-ed in The Washington Post urged people to have more patience and listen to Trump-supporters and try to understand their position and concerns. I commented that I did listen because they are friends and family, but when had it ever occurred to them to listen to me?

Well, that’s enough whining for the day!

Fog early this morning confirmed that it will be hot in Portland today, perhaps a bit over 100°, which is not unusual for August. (The over-115°F temps early in the summer were way out of the ordinary, record-setting, and downright scary.) It was cool for us this morning. We walked more than six miles, and feel much better for it.