We’re so consumed by the awfulness of the Trump era, a known known, we forget the colossal badness of the George W. Bush administration and how much havoc it wreaked here at home and around the world. But that too is a known known, and the death of Donald Rumsfeld brings it back home. As to Rumsfeld, may he roast in hell, let me know when the principals — Dick Cheney and George W. — croak. Let me know when Guantanamo shuts down. Let me know when my 401K savings get back to what they were before 2008.
Mister B and I visited the local Ace Hardware yesterday. Masks-required signs have been removed from the doors and not a single person in the store, not even the sales staff, was wearing a mask. Although I wore mine inside, after a while I took it off and stuffed it in my pocket. Social distancing decals are still on the floor, for what good they do. If Tucsonans are worried about the Delta variant, they aren’t showing it.
Our southern Arizona monsoon, what there is of it, has finally started. There was rain in the Tucson area yesterday, albeit only a few drops where we live. Today’s supposed to be sunny, but more rain is forecast for Friday and the weekend. The last few monsoons have been disappointments, so I’ll believe this one when I see it.
Believe this: Amazon finally delivered the hat holder I ordered and now there’s a place to store the Stetson in the pickup truck. Pretty slick way to hang a hat, eh, pardner? And hang it will, as long as I’m behind the wheel. I know it’s a stereotype, but I distrust men who drive with their hats on, and don’t want to become one myself (though there’s plenty of headroom up front).
Donna’s out running errands and I’m home with Mister B. These are known knowns, and comforting ones. May your knowns be known as well.
© 2021, Paul Woodford. All rights reserved.