Sunday, July 31, 2005

Life and Death

"Life isn't fair. It's just fairer than death, that's all." William Goldman

Saturday, July 30, 2005

What The Hell Did He Say?

"I love Mickey Mouse more than any woman I've ever known." — Walt Disney (1901 - 1966)

Who Is Peter Drucker?

"In all recorded history there has not been one economist who has had to worry about where the next meal would come from." — Peter Drucker

Friday, July 29, 2005

Old Wells Never Die

But I Wish They Would

Every so often this past week I've heard the well pump come on when I was pretty certain that no one has been running any water. It doesn't stay on too long. There's no wet spots under the spigots, at the pump or anyplace in the yard. The one toilet that uses water from the well pump doesn't seem to be running when it shouldn't, slowly or otherwise. Where else is there, I wonder? I don't know a thing in the world about the mechanics of the pump, but if it has some slow leak, why does there never accumulate enough water to make a wet spot? There was a bit of a shower earlier and there's some slight moisture on part of the pump at present, so I need for things to dry up in the pump house to take a good look. But, there again, there seems to be no pool of water being generated! Is there a pool of water under the slab of the garage or the pump house, one that never gets big enough to see and identify?

What aspect of nature or satanic worship could be at work this time? Maybe the pump switch is going on and off in response to the wrong impulses? I have no idea why the well pump would run at times that water has not been running for an hour or two! Ah, pressure! Maybe something needs to be turned a couple of screw-threads more? I don't know crap about pumps. At least with that hose-leak business, I did know how to dig a hole!

Take note: I never touched the pump when I was working endlessly on the leaking hoses, so it's unlikely that I've given it an abusive bump. I turned the pump on and off at the breaker switch. I'll worry about this tomorrow.

"He wrapped himself in quotations — as a beggar would enfold himself in the purple of Emperors." Rudyard Kipling

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Melville and Ustinov

"Of all the preposterous assumptions of humanity over humanity, nothing exceeds most of the criticisms made on the habits of the poor by the well-housed, well-warmed, and well-fed." — Herman Melville

"To refuse awards is another way of accepting them with more noise than is normal." — Peter Ustinov

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

Previous Motions

I am living off the momentum of previous forward motions...

"Few things are harder to put up with than the annoyance of a good example." — Mark Twain, "Pudd'nhead Wilson" (1894)

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

The Dead

The Dead As The Living See Them

You are not more living
Because the dead have voice
To beckon men with fear,
And yet you still cling to—

Nor do the living often speak
Of what fell choice the dead have made
Or what brings forth this fear,
And yet we still cling to

This life that sows and grows
And knows nothing of its seasons,
This life that soils and foils us
And gives us no good reason.

There's a strand reaching up to heaven,
A strand reaching down below,
And nothing at all
Here in mid-air
To show us where we go.

We are what we are in the darkness,
We are what we are at the noon—
A star fallen down from the heaven,
A star fallen down too soon.

There's a hope in the heart's confusion,
Blind hope in the heartless dead,
But nothing at all
Here in mid-air
To show what all should know.

We are what we are in the heavens,
We are what we are on the ground—
Starstruck in the dark and stillness,
Dumbstruck by the slightest sound.

You are not more living
Because the dead have strength
To reckon what men fear,
And yet you still cling to—

Nor do the living often speak
Of what great lengths the dead have gone
Or what dispels this fear,
This fear we still cling to.


5th draft: 07/15/05
©1980 Ronald C. Southern

Monday, July 25, 2005

Black And Blue

(By Thomas 'Fats' Waller, Harry Brooks, and Andy Razaf;
recorded by Louis Armstrong in ’29 and ‘55)

Cold empty bed,
Springs hard as lead,
Feel like Old Ned,
Wish I was dead
What did I do to be so black and blue?

Even the mouse
Ran from my house
It laughed at you
And scorned you too
What did I do to be so black and blue?

I’m white inside
That don’t help my case
‘Cause I can’t hide
What is in my face (accompanied by indecipherable scat)

How would it end
Ain’t got a friend
My only sin
Is in my skin
What did I do to be so black and blue?

I have lately come to realize that before Louis Armstrong got old and smarmy on TV, he was very, very hip. If I meet Louis in the afterlife, I’ll have to apologize deeply to him. I guess about the time I was getting interested in music, folk music and the Beatles and the Rolling Stones were hot, but Armstrong was singing “Hello, Dolly” and some other sentimental bland crap that I couldn’t stand! But the music he made earlier in his career had a lot of spunk and musicality! I was just born badly out of synch with his hits! Maybe if I could have heard him in a live (or a not-for-TV) performance, I’d have learned something about what was good!

Sunday, July 24, 2005

The Guppies At Energy Management

Meet The Pest In Pest Control

"We like to keep the light down in here so we can read the terminals better," one of them said.

"Yeah, sure," Tanner laughed, "but you've got it so dark that you almost can't see anything but the terminals. You're going to end up like a bunch of fat blind guppies at the bottom of the sea, with bulbous eyes and concentration-camp cheeks!"

"It's not that bad," they laughed.

"The guppies don't think it's bad, either, until the light gets in and sears their eyeballs."

"Well, we'll survive," the manager for Energy Management said, beginning to lose his patience with the conversation, but still trying to look professionally friendly. He was pretty proud of his work at Mosquito University.

"Yeah, I'm sure you will," Tanner smiled.

He spoke softly; he too was trying to look friendly, but not believing a word of it. They would all turn into fish, he was sure of it. But it was hardly anything you could explain to a fish. A fish doesn't know about fate, or much else, either. It only knows it's own water. From that time on, Tanner didn't feel very welcome there, though he had to go, anyway, for the quarterly spraying and inspection schedule.


3rd draft: 06/01/05
©1991 Ronald C. Southern

Saturday, July 23, 2005

Darrow On Deformity

"Physical deformity calls forth our charity. But the infinite misfortune of moral deformity calls forth nothing but hatred and vengeance." — Clarence Darrow

Harry Shearer Quote

"If absolute power corrupts absolutely, does absolute powerlessness make you pure?" — Harry Shearer

Friday, July 22, 2005

The Freak As A Likeable Literary Character

I don't know what it is about human nature, but sometimes the same kind of people whom we can't tolerate in real life—whether freaks or doddering old geeks or lowly gimps in the street—people who just irritate or scare the shit out of us, make very interesting characters when we encounter them in a story—think of the two main characters in "Midnight Cowboy". How attractive would the baseball coach in "Bad News Bears" be in reality? Maybe fiction smoothes the sharp edges of the characters or the sharp aroma of the street stink? Or is it that in real life we don't have the patience to practice "pity" and "insights" that the fictionalized clones are able to elicit from us? Or maybe we're all just better writers than God? That one doesn’t seem likely, though, does it?

"I have a rock garden. Last week three of them died." — Richard Diran

Thursday, July 21, 2005


"I'm tired of all this nonsense about beauty being only skin-deep. That's deep enough. What do you want—an adorable pancreas?" Jean Kerr

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

C.S. Lewis Quote

"Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket — safe, dark, motionless, airless — it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable." — C.S. Lewis

Whether we understand them yet or not, these words are true.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Jesus And Satan And The Post Count

"Jesus may love you, but Satan will do you favors." — Anonymous Internet Porno Site

Blogger's feature that keeps track of how many posts we've all written stopped working back when I'd written about 200 posts. I've been wondering how many had accrued since then and now, thanks to Cricket over at Churp, Churp pointing out that it's working again, I see my posts are up to 452 now. Hurrah for me. A blogger ought to be able to make that number visible to site visitors, but so far I can't see that it's possible. If anyone knows, tell me. Why one would be secretive or private about that, I'm not sure. Anyone can tell if I have an unseemly lot of posts or barely any, so why make a big deal of it? I am glad to have an approximate count again though, after more than a whole year of the feature being broken!

Monday, July 18, 2005

Too Many Old Movies In My Head

Bette Davis Said

All these middle-aged modern women with their dyke haircuts,
Where do they all come from? Where does this business lead?
They're normal—yes? Still intelligent, I admit. Not gay,
But they don't make me feel a thing, nor do they want me to.

The men who come to love them, I believe,
Must be sexless starving saints. Oh, look,
There’s Liz Taylor, sniffed by sweet Michael Jackson
Who doesn’t even have a prick. Does he? Perhaps
She thinks he’s Monty Clift come back at last. Perhaps he is.

A saint is always good to find, it’s said,
"But a good hard man is better in bed!"
That's what Bette Davis said, I'm told,
Though she, delightful aged jezebel, is dead
And can't deny such rumors or affirm.

It might have been Carole Lombard instead
(Who gave it up to Clark Gable for the joy of it)
Or jaunty Jean Harlow at a midnight haunt
Or marvelous Marlene Dietrich (rumors hint!)
Might have said it to gorgeous Greta Garbo in bed—
Now that would have been a goosey gander! Quack, quack!

It doesn’t matter much, for most of those faded
Screen-star sinners are now long dead
And the living mostly spent—
But isn't it odd how sad I feel and how unsaintly?


6th draft: 07/15/05
©2000 Ronald C. Southern

Sunday, July 17, 2005

The Same, The Same

"The one function TV news performs very well is that when there is no news we give it to you with the same emphasis as if there were." — David Brinkley

Saturday, July 16, 2005

Talking To A Woman's Beauty

“I often think you're beautiful,” he told her as he prepared to leave.

“I know,” she said. She sounded regretful, but resigned to it.

“And when I find you beautiful, I always fall in love with you.”

“I know, I know,” she repeated. “But don't you see, that you're just falling in love with beauty, or some concept of beauty? It's not me.”

“No. I mean, you're probably right, but no, I don't usually see it. Maybe that's it, I don't know. It's awful, I know that—falling in love with a what or a whom that doesn't fall back.”

“Of course it is,” she nodded. “It's that way for everyone, when it happens.”

“You mean everyone falls in love with beauty?” he asked.

“I'm not sure about that. But everyone at some time falls in love with something that’s not there or with someone who doesn't see the world the same. I'm sure of that.”

“I guess they do. It's sad, isn't it?”

“Yep. But you can't do shit about it.”

“I guess not. See you in the funny papers.”


4th draft: 07/15/05
©1989 Ronald C. Southern

Friday, July 15, 2005

Nothing Is Better, Nothing Is Best

At A Loss

He was out there in the cold,
And he was pissing blood, not much, but some.
We could not see it in the dark
And anyway we were eye to eye at the table,
But he knew pretty much what was going on
And so did we—that he was just outside the window
Yet he and you and I,
Whether taken as one or two or three,
Were at a total loss.


3rd draft: 07/10/05
©2003 Ronald C. Southern

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Send You A Kiss?

(Can't Focus)

Might as well,
I told the girl—
Can't dance, can't die,
Can't concentrate my attention,
Or focus my eye.

Can't come to conclusion
Or bathe in the stream,
Can't live up to my failures
Or get down further than this.


3rd draft: 07/10/05
©2004 Ronald C. Southern

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

Perverse Love Poem

Hop On You

Oh, I’d just like to run and hop on you and—
No, I don’t mean it like that, I don’t.
What I mean is I’d like to hug you tight
And kiss you and it’d be all right.

I’d have taken a bath, maybe two,
And made sure I smelled okay just for you,
And brushed my teeth in case you kissed me—
Just in case, you know, not because you would!
It would be like having something in the bank
If you would. Proof that I will not die a pauper.

I’d bite my tongue a bit just to keep it civil
While it was loose and lashing about while the world went on
And all the while be thinking of Precious Pretty You
And I wouldn’t have a clear thought in my head.

I just like you because you’re so you,
And envy the members of your book club
And treasure your looks on your digital photo
And wonder, Is that really you? They’re just dots…
Oh, I wonder if husbands and lovers ever have a clue
How lucky they are to have you?

But why wouldn’t they, why not?
You are pictured in the paper today with Him,
With one of them. He's such a blur
And yet may be the luckiest man in all of Timberlake
Or maybe even half the state. I dare think of it no more.


2nd draft: 07/08/05
©2005 Ronald C. Southern

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Bloglines Redux

Plumbers Again?!

I swore last week that I was fed up and would be getting rid of Bloglines. I had tried their advice once, to cancel each of my subscriptions and then to renew them one at a time. That voodoo didn't work for long and just made me mad as hell. However, I saw later (you will have to try to forgive this word on my lips) that they were offline for a while, claiming that the Bloglines Plumber was at work fixing things up. Aagh! Why they had to use that word, I don't know. It suggested to me that they'd probably put somebody in charge of that job about as competent as I was. Such may be the case, but I decided to try it all one more time. I killed each subscription; I renewed each subscription.

Mind you, those of you who are unfamiliar, I'm not talking about subscriptions that cost anything, just something that costs me some time filling out a very short form for each website I want to be notified about when there's a new post there. The other time that I tried this fix worked, yet ceased to work after a day or two. This time, a week has gone by and nothing's gone wrong yet, and I've got my fingers crossed. The real thing I learned in all this is not so much how Bloglines works or how to repair it, but how addicted I am to having the advantage of it! I was going nuts without my Blog helper helping me keep it clear which websites I needed to check and which I didn't! I guess I have about 30 blogs I keep track of and that's too many to do by my memory alone or by luck. I'm vaguely sorry that I'm a pitiful junkie like this, but I must have my blogs in a timely manner! I'm getting older and guesswork won't do! I much prefer saving the time and checking them only when they have new stuff.

Monday, July 11, 2005

Go There Or Don’t

I placed an old short story of mine—a mere 10,000 words—Never Say Goodbye, at Dogger Gatsby's Blues, a website exclusively for my short stories. The blog was never very popular, or at least no one informed me that it was popular! I believe a few of you might like this short story, but it's a long short story and many might not like it at all. Unless you love my baloney better than caviar or liked my stories in the past, but just never said so, don’t go there. No one should suffer needlessly

Sunday, July 10, 2005

Not About Me

The Steinbeck Boys

Through the rain they ran,
They ran with the dead rabbit as if convinced
They could run between the raindrops so fleetly
The wet would never touch them.

But when at length they were soaked,
One boy took the rabbit and flung it
By its feet again and again,
Till it fell down on his brother

Who wrapped the rabbit around his neck,
And let its feet and head dangle beneath his chin
And they ran and ran in the rain
Until they reached home again.


2nd draft: 07/15/04
©2004 Ronald C. Southern

Saturday, July 09, 2005

Another Poem About Me


I have more self-control
Than other men
In some things rather like
The wrong things.

So is that weakness
Or is that strength?
I can almost
Never tell.


2nd draft: 07/08/05
©2003 Ronald C. Southern

Friday, July 08, 2005

Another Good Old Song

Writer(s): myrow/gordon

You make me feel so young
You make me feel like spring has sprung
Every time I see you grin
I'm such a happy individual

The moment that you speak
I want to go and play hide-and-seek
I want to go and bounce the moon
Just like a toy balloon

You and I are just like a couple of tots
Running across the meadow
Picking up lots of forget-me-nots

You make me feel so young
You make me feel there are songs to be sung
Bells to be rung, and a wonderful fling to be flung

And even when I'm old and gray
I'm gonna feel the way I do today
'cause you make me feel so young

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Repent, Sinner, And Let The Plumber Do It

I Hate Plumbing And All The Gods Of Plumbing!

Just when I was brave enough to go back in the water, this had to happen. The outdoor plumbing problem with the busted underground hose for the well water was finished and all but tidied up. It just remains to put the dirt back in the hole.

NOW I have problems with the outdoor supply of city water! During the well hose problems, I put a water hose on a spigot that had not been in use for a long time. I hunted up a handle for that shut-off valve and either it was the wrong kind or I made a wrong installation. Instead of just not working at all, it allowed me to turn the water on and then wouldn't ever turn off again. This was irrelevant, of course, for quite a few weeks, until the hose began to leak. But here my hose was Tuesday night, leaking more and more and more. I was stumbling around in the flowerbed, tripping over my own feet and unable to muster enough muscle to shut it off. I fooled with it until I was ready to burst a blood vessel and in my now-famous Fabulous Incompetence made it worse, worse, worse! Dammit, Satan, let me go!

I waited for daylight and better luck, but only daylight arrived. I couldn't shut off the water hose. I couldn't shut off the city water to the house, which would in turn have shut off the hose leaking out those dollars of water every hour. I couldn't shut off the water meter. In the end the problem was solved by the water department (who shut the water off) and a licensed plumber who changed out the spigot or "hose bib" or whatever it's called an hour later. Another job labeled "Repaired By Others, Not Me". I could just eat tarantulas and nine-penny nails! If only I were decisive enough to know which one to start with. The tarantulas would be softer to chew, but more dangerous. Plumbing, need I say, is not my milieu. If my fantasies get any worse than this, next thing you know I'll imagine that I can wrestle alligators or raise the dead. Er, ah, listen, praise Jesus and hope for the best, True Believers, but don't depend on me! I'm a world-famous prize-winning screw-up and somebody should take my tools away from me before I do some real harm.

All Along The Watchtower
by Bob Dylan

"There must be some way out of here," said the joker to the thief,
"There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief.
Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth,
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth."

"No reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke,
"There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke.
But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate,
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late."

All along the watchtower, princes kept the view
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too.

Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl,
Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Pissed On By Planet Earth

For The Last Time This Year, I Hope

I dug the hole out again. It was easier than the first time (no roots this time), but still not easy. After about an hour, I spotted the hose repair, but couldn’t see any leak since there was no pressure and almost no water in the system. My grown nephew happened by and gave me a hand. We turned on the pump and spotted the leak. One of the hose clamps wasn’t tight enough. We turned off the pump. Since he was stronger than me, I gave him a shot at tightening the clamp. At first we thought he hadn’t quite gotten it, but when he left I noticed that the “continuing leak” was a trick of the eye or something. My nephew was a better repairman than he knew. Very good.

Now I’ve packed the dirt down at the bottom of the hole where possible, not yet filling the hole. I’ve slipped some pieces of 2x4 board in underneath, hoping to support and hold the hose steady when I put the dirt back in later. I’ve covered the hole with some boards and a piece of tin and will check if the repair stays good for the next couple of days. I sure don’t want to cover it up good only to have to dig it out again! I hate this shit. If you’re a perpetual virgin like Loretta Young, then get out of here—hurry now!—because I just Fucking Hate This Shit!

Dear Lord, just let me have water to flush with! Let me have a few gallons for the grass! All else can go to hell, I don’t care. You know I don’t, Lord! Thank you very much.

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

Love Is Grand

So Ardently Kissing
(for Ms. Yossarian)

They lingered near the bushes
At the back of the building,
Avoiding the light
So that no one would see
How glazed his eyes were,
How big his heart was,
When he held her for the first time.

Not to mention
That the new lovers
Didn’t wish to be seen by strangers
To be so ardently kissing,
So wildly deep-tongue kissing,
That they didn’t even know their own names.


Monday, July 04, 2005

That Damn Hole — Part Three Of The Saga

More Water Well Disaster

After being ok for a couple of days, this morning the hole I dug is full of water. A slow leak, I presume, from that same section of water hose, for everything was dry yesterday around 6 or 7 pm. I may or may not dig it up again. My uncle passed by and said to call him when I got it exposed if I couldn't figure out the deal. He’s acting like he might help to decide what’s to be done, as he was talking about possibly running a new water line. We’ll see about that. I was actually hoping to just quit on it. I don’t want a new job. Or the same old job all over again!

If my couplers or clamps weren't tight enough, I can presumably deal with that. If the brittle old hose has sprung a new leak, I could replace the hose all the way to the hyrant at one end, but the hose in the other direction would be too long to dig out, at least for me. So the probability of needing a whole new water line is more than small, I’d think. But I don’t know and I don’t think I want to know.

I’m starting to feel a little bit like I’m being pissed on by Planet Earth. This afternoon it rained and further muddied the water.

I’m Getting Rid of Bloglines

I have been at war with Bloglines, through which I usually get "notified" of new posts and often view the post. I seem to be losing the war with Bloglines; though they are free, they are now not very good (they used to be very good). I can no longer recognize a "notice" since the previous couple of notices about posts I have now read have not yet been deactivated. So I’m trying to retrain myself to check my list every day rather than wait for notifications and I’m trying to restrain myself from throwing rocks through Bloglines windows! So sad, buncha saps had a good thing going at one time.

Well, that’s my view. Is it possible that it’s just my computer doing this or has anyone else had this kind of problem? I’ve written Bloglines and heard their silly reply to unsubscribe and then re-subscribe to each web site. That worked for a little while, but each one went bad again within a day or two. I have (er, I used to have) too long a subscription list to do that every couple of days.

Now I’ve written them one more time and they want a list of all my subscription url’s so that they can investigate. If that’s what they needed, I wonder why they didn’t ask for that first? They may not want to send me on a wild goose chase, but they don’t care if they do, either! Goddamn drug pushers and Internet experts. Neither one cares if you live or die.

"Americans will put up with anything provided it doesn't block traffic." — Dan Rather

Sunday, July 03, 2005

Cockroach Detective

German roaches

Where To Look When Things Get Bad

It would be hard to list all the places where cockroaches might reside, for they can live in all places except the most extreme of heat (blowtorch) or cold (outside at the South Pole) or in areas where there is extreme, constant, and complete activity. I don’t even know where this last location might be, I’m just conjecturing that there might be such a place and that roaches would not fare well there.

Once you begin to see roaches, you just have to learn what KIND of places to examine. Be a cockroach detective! Usually they are in some handful of predictable locations in the kitchen and bathroom, but if you live in an old or seldom-cleaned place full of spills and crumbs and dirt—such as the college rooms or apartments of some fraternity brothers who can’t be bothered with cleaning—the bugs could be Everywhere. German roaches especially like to be in tight locations; they like to feel surfaces close against them on all sides, such as in a crevice. Anywhere that two elements of constructions fail to completely meet could contain a cockroach of some size. It makes them feel safe. Let’s search those school boys’ living quarters—roaches may live and breed in the following locations (plus others). These items are especially suspicious if they’re in the kitchen or otherwise adjacent to food and drink areas:

1. backside and underside of refrigerator
2. backsides, undersides of storage racks.
3. bathroom crevices
4. behind and inside clocks
5. behind kitchen calendars
6. bottoms of chairs
7. computer
8. desk
9. electrical outlets
10. false bottoms in cabinets
11. hidden corners of closets
12. hollow legs of tables, appliances
13. in clothing stored out of sight
14. inside and under upholstered chairs
15. lamps
16. lighted beer or Coke decorations stolen from bars
17. molding of door frames, even closet doors
18. night stand
19. overlap of building materials (wood, metal, etc.)
20. pantry
21. radio
22. same for oven as for refrigerator
23. seldom-opened storage areas or boxes
24. shelves
25. stereo
26. storage areas where supply boxes are not “rotated”. You know, oldest materials are not used first, therefore the older materials are pushed to the back and thus have time to accumulate a roach family (or pantry pests).
27. toasters
28. towel storage
29. TV
30. under sink
31. underside of mattress or box springs
32. underside or back of bread box
33. wall crevices
34. you get the idea

Saturday, July 02, 2005

What Damn Hole — Part Two

I worked like a dog all day and dug that hole bigger. You know, that hole that hates me worse than I hate it! Found the leak (just a few inches further than yesterday). But it was damnably hard to get at because there were even More roots to be cut and axed! Anyway, about 4 in the afternoon I turned on the pump (for a test) without covering it up. Seemed to work, no leaks. The pump restarted 4 or 5 times while the hoses ran water, then it quit coming on again and so now there’s no pressure, and therefore no water! I just tried to turn it on after a rest, but it almost immediately kicked the breaker off. It had kicked off the breaker a time or two in the last week or two, though I hadn't paid it much mind, just started it again later. I'm wondering if it's just an accident that the pump or switch or something went out on the day I worked like hell on it. I never touched anything mechanical or electric—just dug the hole, found the leak, used 2 menders to insert the piece of new hose, tightened it all, and it was done. Hard part of course was digging a hole that would let me get at the hose—and squat in the hole to reach the hose and jam it and the couplers together! That latter was a bitch for a fat old cripple like me! I'm fairly sure what I repaired couldn't be related to the pump trouble, but it sure is exasperating not to be able to enjoy a little of the fruits of my labor today.

Bugger it all. It occurs to me that that pump and flexible hose weren't really made to last this more than 30 years like it has, that we were supposed to dump it when city water got out here! My family took the city water, but kept the well system. If the pump can't be fixed with some ease, I'm ready to drink bottled water and forget about watering the lawn and flowerbeds.

Later in the evening (approximately 8): I consulted with my brother in law about the pump and decided to proceed with using it. I removed the door to the pump house so that the temperature won’t get so high, something I just hadn’t done yet this year. I don’t know how much longer it will stay trouble-free, but it did a good bit of work just now without giving out or knocking itself unconscious or tripping the breaker. I got so pleased I went ahead and backfilled the hole, using some sand in the immediate area over and under the fixed hose. If the pump does go bad in some way, at least I had a chance to test my repair of the leaky hose. Did I mention how long I delayed fixing the leak? I’m not sure, but I do remember it was a cold month when I started to think I should do something about it! Some time ago!

Friday, July 01, 2005

What Damn Hole? — Part One

Goddamn that damn hole, I say.

What damn hole? You say.

The one I dug in the back yard in the approximate location of my well-hose leak. The one I placed poorly, because I don’t have x-ray vision to see through the damn dirt. I located the hose after a very big hole was dug. I found a place where a heavily rusty hose coupler looked like a likely evil-doer, but that wasn’t leaking.

What’s the matter, you ask.

I got to dig some more hole! I say. A lot more hole. I see where the water is flowing from, but there’s a lot of hose in that direction; it may be two more inches, two more feet, or twenty more feet! I’m sweating all over from this one little hole (and all of its attendant grasping roots), and I’m sore all over, too. I’ve had to stop, it’s getting past 8 and is fairly dark now. Tomorrow I’ll suffer some more. I expected to work on it more tomorrow, but I expected to get a little more than this done. But this is how all my repairs and fixit jobs go. More later!