The Gadgeteer

Despite my curmudgeony ways, I'm quite the gadgeteer.  From a digital wireless weather center with remote thermometer and rain gauge, a mini subwoofer under the seat of my car back in 1979 (BMW was NOT into high-end sound back then), an aftermarket cassette deck under the passenger seat of my '72 Challenger (great for changing tapes when on a date), the Bluetooth adjunct for my stereo I mentioned back in January, to programming my Universal Remote (you do it via the web now!), I like my gadgets.

This also neatly combines trash-is-the-last-resort and keeping up-to-date with modern technology.

And convenience?  Say no more - bathroom lights that come on automatically as you enter, remote light switches, four different timers for lights to come on in the evening (excluding the two seasonal timers for lights in trees outside), and on and on.

Naturally, the local Sharper Image DEMANDS my undivided attention. Really - it's not just the vibrating massage chairs.

An Ethical Dilemma

I believe I recently mentioned Chapter 22 of the Curmudgeon Handbook: "Trash Is The Last Resort."  It has recently put me in a quandary.

You see, I had a lot to do with the addition of Chapter 22.  This should come as no surprise to my loyal readers.  So when our good ole Amurican hard water's calcium deposits finally reduced the little holes that water the coffee grounds in my Mr. Coffee to the point that the machine hardly worked, I was presented with the following:

Reading the manual, I could run vinegar (Yuck), or CLR through it a (probably large) number of times (also, probably futilely) or, for $17, I could get a new one and toss the old one. What to do, what to do?  PLUS, for a new one at that price, I would actually have to present myself - on purpose - to a Walmart.

I must confess, the new one looks quite spiffy on our new counter.  Come on, it WAS a last resort...

Burger King

Our quiet little town here in New Jersey hosts exactly 1 (one) fast food restaurant: a Burger King.  Apparently, back in the old days, Burger King actually tried to choose locations other than simply across the street from a McDonalds, as they do now.  And they snuck into town before the town hatched its prim, no fast food joints in HERE policy.

Being a Burger King, naturally it sucks, but this one does much more. Apparently it is a training facility for store managers, because they change monthly.  Thus, the service redefines "spotty" and they manage to get something (anything - it changes with every visit) wrong. That's why I know about manager turnover, because a new person comes rushing out to our table each visit with the corrected order, apologizing profusely.

So, for entertainment, it's A-1.  The food part?  Well, it IS a Burger King.

Decorating Creep -The Dark Side

Way back last year on February 22nd, I exposed the reality of redecorating - it is never limited to the one room you thought was the target of your efforts.  My Sainted wife has struck again - in a much more sinister (read: expensive) way: she chose a color ("nutmeg" for those that must know) for the new wood kitchen floor.

Like the granite counter, this makes finding dirt virtually impossible, but my point is IT DIDN'T MATCH ALL OUR OTHER NATURAL OAK FLOORS.  Her proposal?  Lets refinish them!

Now, please note that refinishing floors is really, really expensive, compared to a coat of paint and a new throw pillow or two.  I'm trapped - if we dare lift any of the wall-to-wall, we will then have to refinish THAT floor.

I just never knew rocks and hard places came so cleverly disguised. Redecorating: be afraid, be very afraid.

Dogarama

I believe I recently complained about, err, MENTIONED dogs (what, a curmudgeon complain?) in my neighborhood.   Howlers, yappers and more. Yes, more - because we live on a quiet side street, it is popular with the dog-walking set.

However, I can take comfort in that no matter the weather (today, for instance, it's 29˚out and I believe icy rain), as I sit here at 6am - shortly after Scruffy has done her morning number on me to wake up and feed her - sipping coffee and writing in my warm, dry home, THEY are out there, walking their spawn.  

And picking up what they leave behind.