Saturday and (Maybe) Nothing to Do

Our daughter Polly asked for my help moving her stuff from the ex-boyfriend’s house in Ajo, Arizona, to her new apartment in Tucson. Specifically, she needed me to hook the trailer to the truck and meet her at the ex’s at 1 PM today. I backed the trailer into the garage yesterday, pumped up the tires, then put all the tie-down straps and packing tape I could find into a toolbox. This morning I called to make sure we’re still on. She’s at the house in Ajo now with her current boyfriend, packing. Polly said it’s starting to look like everything will fit into his truck and trailer, and maybe they won’t need me after all. I’m standing by. She’s supposed to call with a come/don’t-come decision by 10 AM, the time I’d need to start the three-hour drive to Ajo. It’s 9:35 AM now.

While I’m waiting, I’ll blog a little. Why not? Donna’s still in Palm Springs. She and her sister Robin, who’s been visiting her daughter in California, are driving here tomorrow. Robin’s going to stay with us a couple of days and then fly home to Michigan.

When we bought this house in 1998, the guy who serviced the pool for the previous owner came by to introduce himself, and we hired him. For the first ten years he worked for a pool company, but then struck out on his own. Something’s been going on with him over the last year and a half. He started coming by less frequently, then hardly at all. When I’d call him he’d get back on it for a week or two, then flake off again. The last time I called him I said we were going to have to find a new service. He said he was going through a divorce, but that he’d get back on schedule since he really couldn’t afford to lose his clients. He didn’t, though … we haven’t seen him in over two months, and in the meantime Donna and I learned how to service the pool ourselves.

If he does show up again, I’ll tell him he’s fired. Divorce is a bullshit excuse. Couples get divorced all the time, but who can afford to quit going to work over it? No one I know of. It has to be drugs. He’s gone and gotten himself addicted to something. What else could it be?

We also have a monthly yard service. The man who runs our crew came here from Mexico but is now an American citizen, like most first-generation Mexican-Americans in Tucson. I’m pretty sure some of his guys, though, are undocumented. Like it or not (and I emphatically do not), the cattle car caucus is in power and the roundup has started. I fear for those guys. I fear for America and what we’re becoming.

The latest: I’m off the hook. Polly called to tell me she doesn’t need me in Ajo after all. Now I’ll have to find something else to fill my day. Pulling the trailer out of the garage and parking it on the side of the house will take an hour. Then what? I’ll think of something.

© 2017, Paul Woodford. All rights reserved.


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