absence

ABSENCE


Absence does make the heart grow fonder, at least in love. Not in the case of a middle class luxurious and pampered lifestyle. As you all knew would happen, wife #4 is yet once again back to harass and bedevil me. I probably knew it was inevitable myself, subconsciously, refusing to proclaim victory over the Little Brain like I did one time before. Time will tell if it will last or make me less miserable, and in the meantime I have the Head Of Security back, as well as improve my love life so that my minions feel my love and compassion flowing over them rather than my bile and venom. Yes, yes, you are more than welcome. I know a few of you bitches are all butt hurt that you didn’t respond sooner to my romantic overtures so you yourself could be the lucky recipient of glorious hair basking and worship, but the early chick gets this worm. Next time you’ll be a little less reserved, won’t you?

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Alas, I don’t bring this up to implore you all to feel sorry for me, or to showcase my own dysfunction and folly, but to set the stage for today’s article, absence of the grid lifestyle. Thursday, the ex ( now once again Most Honorable Super Terrific Lucky Wife #4 ) calls up asking me to come pick up the cats as she was about to be homeless. I of course refused since while I love the cats, I don’t love them $300 worth ( just as I loved Korean prostitutes $30 worth, but not American hookers $300 worth ). For a complete dumbass who left me to live with her daughter who is extremely unreliable in holding a job and paying rent historically, the bitch be pretty smart. She says nothing about herself moving back, but just hints at it. Then, having given my subconscious time to ponder and be subsumed by the power of the Little Brain Who Took Over The World, she calls again on Saturday morning and pleads for her own rescue. By this time I’m only seeing pink, if you know what I mean, and I fall for her promises and ploys once again. Hell, even being truckless seemed to make no dent in her desire to move back, and I had thought that one was foolproof.

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Anywho, the phone conversation took some time ( I was negotiating reduced rations of alcohol and tobacco and unlimited conjugal rights ), as did her reply back some time later ( trying to coordinate the rescue of the cats, imprisoned in the locked-out apartment, which sadly failed ) and I didn’t start out for Reno 300 miles away until 2pm. After picking up Herself, it wasn’t too late to hit the road again ( I hate driving long distance as every gas sipping compact car is designed for persons of short stature and seemingly Hobbit length legs ) but I couldn’t drive more than a few hours when things started getting difficult and the road lines blurred. Time to keep driving into a wreck, or get a hotel room. Hotel rooms are one of life’s supreme rip-offs. Not only do you get penalized into paying the banks mortgage interest, the contractors crooked deals, the incompetence of day labor workers, and the use of zoning to get rich, you also get to pay the parasitic local government’s inflated taxes ( the inner city streets are decaying because the ex-mayor took a 300% of salary retirement package after one term in office, so the folks driving off an off ramp directly into a hotel parking lot get humped to pay for services they never see or use ).

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Kind of like the 25% rental car fee you pay at the airport ( where, mysteriously, there are the only zoned spots for the rental company ). But I digress. For the first time in seven years, I’m forced to pony up for a hotel. As rates go, it was more than fair, and the service was great ( I believe it was The Alabaster, in Lovelock ). Everything worked, no scuzz or slime or broken appliances. The neighbors were quiet. But, I can’t say I was at all impressed by the experience itself. The use of the full grid wasn’t at all as exciting as you would think. The electricity wasn’t more exciting, the free flowing water didn’t entice me, cable TV, or even a full size TV, failed to move me to tears. The air conditioning didn’t call me seductively back into the urban prison. I was unmoved. You people can have all those things. I don’t like their price tag. No, there wasn’t any street traffic, that small burg of a few thousand rolls up the sidewalks early ( the casino restaurant closes at nine, even ). I envy those that live there. And no neighboring rooms were heard. But the air conditioning unit made grinding and clanking noises all night. The only reason I slept for the pitifully short five hours was I was so tired from the previous two nights of six hours each night. I like my silent as a tomb Bison Compound. No ninja’s can strike without warning. Plus, luxuriating in air just made going outside more difficult as you aren’t acclimated.

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The shower was hot, long and full blast, but I didn’t feel any cleaner afterwards. So, obviously, my pitiful bleach jug showers are all that is necessary for sanitation. Sure, during the winter a modern shower is wonderful, but that is because it heats you, not because it gets you any cleaner. The truck payment, truck insurance and gas to haul water, or the multiple thousands of dollars to dig a well and power the pump are not worth that luxurious cleaning. I even hated the lights. I’m used to LED’s. From dark to flicking on the light, an LED is no where near as harsh as an incandescent or florescent bulb to your eyes.

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And TV? I can’t see why folks pay so much for cable TV. I noticed no less commercials than the over the air channels I watch. Just as many infomercials and Watch The Master Basketweaver Shows. I don’t see what all the fuss is over living on grid.

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