Day 218, intro, bills, FOPAL

Monday, 7/8/2019

Today at 9am was the monthly Residents’ Meeting in the auditorium, at which I along with two other new residents was introduced. There were lots of other items on the meeting agenda of course. I hadn’t realized that Tom, who with Nancy had invited me to sit with them at dinner on day 215, was the president of the Residents’ Association and so ran the meeting. Well, part of that was that their last name in the directory is Fiene, and I had no idea that was the person “Tom Feeny” who was the president.

Betsy had done a nice job of summarizing the reminiscences I’d given her on day 211. The other new residents were Sally (one-time Registrar and assistant Provost at Stanford) and Tammy, biologist.

Now I texted to Chuck to remind him that today was the last day of the sale, and to arrange a meeting for tomorrow to plan the next steps in the sale. That out of the way I paid a couple of bills and looked at a medical appointment. Months ago my cardiologist had put in an order for an echocardiogram to be done in July, with a checkup to follow. I finally got around to actually scheduling those two appointments, the echo for the end of July and the exam at the doctor’s first available, mid-August.

I needed a few things: laundry bleach, a toilet brush (so I can not insult my housekeeper with a foul toilet) and if possible, a small waste can for the bathroom. So I walked over to CVS on University avenue and was able to get the first two items.

One loose end in the Tasso house is the fireplace. When we replaced it in 1990, after the Loma Prieta earthquake broke the chimney, Marian despised the replacement because it wasn’t as big and comfortable-looking as the old one. True, it had a proper heat jacket so it was much more efficient at warming the room then the old brick one. True it had a gas flame on very realistic ceramic logs so it was easy to start and made no mess from wood chips or ashes. But it wasn’t the old one, it was unnatural. So the one thing it would not have was an electric igniter with a remote to raise and lower the flame. It has a manual gas valve and you light it by hand with a match or a lighter.

OK, well, that’s in my opinion a detraction for selling the house. It should have an electric igniter with a knob, if not a remote, to raise and lower the flame. Nobody now wants to lean in with a lighter and have the gas go FFWOOFF at you as it lights. You can lose eyebrows on that thing if you aren’t careful. So I looked at Yelp for gas fireplace installers, and got in touch with one. In a later phone call, Eric said he’d stop by tomorrow about noon. That’ll be convenient, I’ll be there meeting with Chuck anyway.

That out of the way (Lordy but my mornings are productive) I headed off to FOPAL. We are coming up to sale weekend, the place is overflowing with books. But my computer section is just comfortably full of I think some really interesting stuff that I think will sell.

On the way back to C.H. I stopped at the hardware store and found a nice little brushed-steel trash container to sit behind the toilet, so that’s crossed off.

By coincidence I ran into Craig Diane and Patti on the way to supper so sat with that group. Pleasant chat, and I learned things about C.H. internal politics and policies.

Day 216, Museum, FOPAL, stool

Saturday, 7/6/2019

Breakfasted in the dining room. Began editing a chapter of the book, which happened to be the chapter on death and bereavement. Since I last worked on it I have some personal experience in that line, and while the advice I’d written before has held up pretty well in the light of new experience, it needs a little tweaking.

I put on my fire-engine red Museum Docent shirt and headed out about 10, stopping first at FOPAL to clean up the computer section. I ran out of time for that, left it, and continued on to the Museum to lead the 12pm tour. About 20 people, it went well.

I changed shirts then, I’d brought another so as to preserve my red one and not have to wash it again before the next use, and returned to FOPAL to price the books I’d selected earlier. Then back home.

During all this the Estate Sale was happening at Tasso street. I’d emailed a neighbor and now he sent me a couple of pictures of people coming out of the house carrying things they’d bought.

I chilled in my recliner for part of the afternoon, and happened on a thread in a forum about choosing the best chair for long sessions in front of a computer. This is a subject I’ve been thinking about. The old chair I’ve used for years is still functional but unfortunately my new L-shaped desk is a bit higher than the old one. I sat on a pile of books to verify that I need something around 23-24 inches high, but the old chair doesn’t get to 20.

target_stool The internet thread pointed to a lot of different chairs, but then somebody pointed out that a simple bar-stool with a swiveling top is as good as anything. Hmmm. They actually linked to one sold at Target, and a little poking around there turned up this one. Not only is it just the height I want, it is a lovely match to all my other new furniture. I am determined to go and buy this at Target tomorrow.

I texted Deborah about 6pm, she said the sale was going well, most of the furniture gone. I said I’d decided not to keep my subwoofer and my desk chair, could I drop them by in the morning? She said, sure.

In the evening cleaned out my collection of DVDs; there are quite a few movies I don’t expect to watch again and I will give them either to the C.H. library or to FOPAL. Finishing up watching on Amazon Prime, a 1980 BBC production of The Taming of the Shrew with John Cleese as Petruchio. It’s the Shakespeare play I know best, having acted in a production of it at USF in the dark ages around 1968. In retrospect it’s a horrible play, wrong in so many ways. Cleese is perfect in the role; I do not like the Kate, one Sarah Badel. Anyway, that’s the evening.

Day 213, FOPAL

Wednesday, 7/3/2019

Started a run about 7:30 but my body just didn’t want to do it. Not short of breath, just general lack of energy and stiffness. I’m always on the lookout for symptoms that would indicate my replacement aortic valve is breaking down, so this was a concern. I cut the excursion short, walked mostly for 1.5 miles. My late sister’s husband Wes used say he “felt few”, meaning sickly, sub-par. So I felt “few” for a couple of hours, but felt back to normal by noon.

Drove to Woodside for my haircut with Chris. Bought some fruit there, including a punnet of Blenheim apricots. And walked away from it when I left. Damn.

Went on down to FOPAL to work the computer section and do some sorting. Although I felt normally strong, after 3.5 hours of schlepping books around my back was hurting, and I left a little early.

When I got back to C.H. the little electronic gizmo on the dash that lets me into the garage didn’t work. Maybe it was cooked by being in the sun for a few hours? Whatever, I parked on the street and went to turn it in at the front desk. An hour later, the desk person called to say that a new dongle was ready for me. So I moved the car into the garage.

Waiting for me in the mail area was my shipment of Saturo. I decided a couple of days ago that I was tired of not being able to get breakfast as early as I want, on the days I want to get going. So I ordered a couple of packs of Saturo, the ready-to-drink meal replacement that tasted best to me when I was reviewing such products last year. I had meant not to do this until one of two companies that have promised ready-to-drink Keto meal replacements made good on the promise, sometime in the fall. But I want the simple logistic now, of having an easy, instant, 350 calories of balanced nutrition in the fridge whenever I want it.

I started out eating alone at supper, but sat at a table for four, not one of the little two-person booths on the edge. So Al came and sat with me, so I put away my phone (reading on the kindle while eating) and made conversation. Which was good.

Tomorrow, the 4th, is going to be a holiday for me, too. Quiet and relaxing is the plan.

Day 210, coffee, FOPAL, supper

Sunday 6/30/2019

For Sunday morning coffee I went to Mlle. Collette. The coffee and pastry selections are top-notch. I snagged a pleasant seat at a table outside that was partly shaded by a tree. The other outdoor tables were in full sun and I don’t think would be very nice for reading the paper.

Back home I spent an hour repotting the two big plants for which I bought pots last week. When I watered them, however, water from the bottom crept toward the edge of my deck. None actually spilled over, but definitely I need saucers to match the pots.

During this process I realized how it was really more convenient to do my plant-watering on Sunday. I’d been upholding Marian’s decades-long tradition of Monday watering since her death, but… it would actually be more convenient to do it on Sundays. (Actually, the plants on the deck, with more wind and sun, need another shot of water mid-week too.)

Next, I was replying to an email from Frank, another volunteer at FOPAL who I’ve been chatting with, when something in his note reminded me of PGDP, the site that applies crowd-sourcing to the job of proof-reading and formatting old books for Project Gutenberg. From roughly 2005 to 2015 I put in thousands of hours there, helping to create free online versions of dozens of books. Then, for various reasons, I fell out of love with it and hadn’t given it a thought for several years. Did it still exist? Did my old ID still work? Yes and yes. There went an hour down the internet drain…

Meanwhile a text came from Deborah; the washing machine buyer planned for this afternoon had canceled. That opened up the rest of the day.

OK, what else to do with a Sunday? For a couple of weeks I’ve had a goal of taking another train trip to the City, to see the Andy Warhol exhibit at SFMOMA. Should I do that today? I was just about ready to do this, using Google Maps to decide whether I would walk from the station or take a Lyft, when I noticed that Google had helpfully colored Market Street with a rainbow to remind people that today was the Pride Parade. Oh. That could make the streets, and the train either way, a bit crowded. OK, put that off again, to maybe Tuesday or Friday.

Now what? Well, I feel some pressure to get down to FOPAL and tidy my section. Normally I’d do it on Monday, but Monday’s schedule is chopped up with obligations at noon and 2:30. So, how about doing FOPAL today, freeing up Monday? So that’s what I did: drove to FOPAL and spent two hours tidying up the computer book section.

From there I stopped by the local nursery to buy those saucers, then stopped at Tasso street for another small kitchen item. To my surprise, Deborah was at the house, busily pricing and arranging goods. We talked about the used McCroskey mattress. She’d asked its age, and I’d managed to find when we bought it by searching old credit card statements online: November 2013. She’s selling it for $90. I didn’t tell her how much we paid for it. Well, actually, I don’t know, because we bought multiple items on the one transaction. But it was at least 20x the sale price.

Something about remembering the purchase of the mattress, and/or seeing our goods being priced for sale, or both, gave me a solid grief-spasm on the drive home. I want to write about grief and anxiety, which I’ve not mentioned for some time, but this post is too long.

At supper time I was again disappointed with the dining room’s offering. The food has been adequately attractive so far, not great cuisine but ok, until Saturday lunch and again tonight. Chicken wrap for Sunday dinner? And a veggie dish with a lot of carrots, something I dislike. I served myself, took a couple of bites, and left. Went up University in the car and took the first open parking space, which was right in front of Walburger’s, which I took as a sign, and ate there. Not sure what I will do if the food continues to annoy. I’m not a fussy eater; I’m more a “fuel up and go” person. We’ll see.

Day 204, planning, bridge, FOPAL

Monday, 6/24/2019

My second Monday here. Last night coming out of the dining room I nabbed a roll and a banana, and that’s what I had for breakfast this morning. Eating in the room, before dressing and going out, is much more satisfactory for me. Take in a little fuel and go.

Go I did, leaving at 7:30 for a run, the third time I’ve run this new route. The phone app doesn’t give consistent results for the distance, but it’s about right, around 40+ minutes of (pathetically slow) jogging plus a few minutes to walk the last few blocks. Being so early I didn’t stop at a coffee shop. The earliness was to be ready for the Monday bridge game beginning at 10:15.

Before I went out to run I discovered that the button on my usual shorts was loose and almost off. So on return I got out the small sewing kit I’d brought from Tasso and sewed it back on. Also after returning I finalized the estate docs for the tax people, and printed out the various maps and forms needed when I go to help with registration, tomorrow morning on campus, for Tara Vanderveer’s summer girls’ basketball camp. They want us there outside Maples pavilion at 7:45, which I calculate means I have to be out the door by 7:15.

I only had to play the first session of the bridge game this time, because I have an appointment to meet with Angela to review the completion of my apartment. I have a few QC things to bring to her attention, but mainly I want to get straight how to have a piece of furniture (the planned bookcase) delivered.

That interview was pleasant. She agreed to have fixed a couple of minor sloppy construction items and we talked about the move-out in September, and what work would be done during the renovation. To have furniture delivered, contact her.

That done, I felt the pull of my section of books at FOPAL and went there, arriving about 3:30, and staying three full hours. There was a wall of 18 boxes in front of the section. I culled them and sent 16 boxes to the bargain room, and priced and shelved about 50 books in all.

Back home just in time for the final minutes of dinner service. And then to spend a relaxing evening in the glow of much accomplishment.

Day 198, gym, FOPAL, furniture

Tuesday, 6/18/2019

The morning routine is shaping up as pretty comfortable, not greatly changed from the old one. Make a cup of coffee in the apartment; sip it while reading the paper and watching the pre-recorded TV news. But in order to get anything to eat, I need to dress and leave the room. This kinda messes things up. The flow would be better if I could just eat adequately up here before dressing.

I just may in future start breakfasting on a meal-replacement drink. Not Soylent, although that would work. There’s another of the meal-replacement companies I follow that will sometime soon release a low-carb drink that I’ll try.

Today I wanted to drive to the YMCA. So I dressed in exercise clothes and went down to the dining room. When it is open, there is also an area with take-away food in a refrigerator. I had never checked it before. The selection for breakfast was not great. I took a bag with half a raisin bagel and a squeeze tube of Philly cream cheese. I noshed on this while driving to the Y.

On return from the Y, I did two errands. One was to stop at the UPS store and hand in the AT&T modem. They had sent me instructions and a sheet with a bar-code to print, and return was just that easy: hand the device and the sheet over the counter, get a receipt. So that was nice.

Not so nice was the next item: I went to my former home on Tasso street to pick up a couple of items. With many of the furniture items gone it has a vacant, neglected air that is really saddening.

Here I need to write about something that happened Saturday. There was so much to describe on that move-out day, and I skipped this, but pulling away from the house today I remembered it and think it was important to put down.

Saturday, after the truck had been loaded, I got in the car and started the drive to Channing House, and no surprise, was hit by strong emotions at the thought of leaving home. I was weeping as I drove, but part of the emotion was a kind of rage and determination. I was shouting our loud, lecturing myself, about You planned this; you mean this; it was a great house but and at this point it turned into a kind of chant or curse, no more fucking a/c breakdowns, no more fucking roof rats, no more fucking earthquake insurance, no more fucking noisy refrigerator, no more fucking worn-out dishwasher … and on for a couple of blocks naming all the irritations and stresses that came along with home ownership. So when I headed down the ramp into the C.H. garage I still had wet cheeks but was also felt oddly purged. During the last couple of weeks there were so many occasions when “This is the last time I’ll ever…” But there were lots of things that were good to never do again.

Today, pulling away, I was sad, but mostly sad because the place that had been home, didn’t feel like home any more. Another shard, falling away.

Back at CH I took a shower and got ready to go out again when the Wanda the 6th floor housekeeper knocked. I’d met her in the hall yesterday and was told that Tuesday was the day for her to clean my unit. I’d suggested Thursdays would be better because I was out all day. Now she told me that Thursdays at 2:30 would be her time in the future. Very accommodating.

I drove to FOPAL and put in an hour culling, pricing and shelving computer books. Then I felt rather feeble and tired, and realized, oh, right, I hadn’t had anything to eat all day but half a bagel. I got a sandwich at the nearby store and sat in the car to eat it. After a bit of rest, I put in two hours sorting before coming back.

Deborah had told me that someone was coming to see the sofa tonight so I planned to go out once again for that. But while I was eating dinner, I got another text; the person wasn’t coming. That left it open to stay at CH and see the second in a series of Hollywood musicals, Fred and Ginger in Swing Time. It’s the one with “This Is a Fine Romance”. Silly plot; two or three spectacular dance sequences.

Back in the room at 9, I realized I have SYTYCD on the DVR from yesterday. I think I’ll sit up and watch it.

Day 192, A/C repair, FOPAL, Elton John

Wednesday, 6/12/2019

Last night I had good results from the Yelp “get quotes from several vendors” system. Three of four HVAC companies responded to my request for repair of the condenser fan. Two said, maybe next week or later. But one said, “Thursday” and then said “Maybe tomorrow”. This at 10pm!

With no A/C, the only way to get the house temp down is to open all the windows, set the HVAC on “circ”, and wait for the outside air temp to go down. Which it did only very slowly (where oh where has the onshore flow gone?). It was past 2am when I felt any need to get under the blanket. At sunrise the outside temp was 73, the inside 75. They were pretty well equalized by 7am, so then I closed the windows and drapes. The house is quite well insulated for an old building, and it will probably stay under 80 until mid-afternoon.

Now (8am) I’ve nothing to do but wait for (1) a callback from the HVAC company and (2) the arrival of the appraiser, and Chuck, around 10am.

8:40, yelp message from the HVAC (Herz Appliance Repair) that a repairman is coming between 10-11am. I am pleased.

The appraiser, a cheerful guy about my age who says these estate-related appraisals are 80% of his business, rolled in at 10. He busily measured the house and took a page of notes, and said he would email me the PDF in a week or so.

The repair guy came and in two minutes had spotted a large capacitor in line with the compressor and fan, which had bulged and melted in a most dramatic way. It took an hour during which he spent a lot of time on the phone getting advice from somebody, but he replaced it and the system works again, yay!

I spent 3 hours at FOPAL tending my computer section and sorting. During which Chuck texted that the L.L. and her ex-husband — who apparently actually is an architect! — want to have one more look, around 7:30pm, ok? Oh, ok. No, wait; Deb had said that a buyer for the bed would come at 6:30. So I texted her, and she texted back that the buyer had never gotten back to her, “Craig’s list flakes” she grumped. So there was no conflict; L.L. could come ahead.

I had somehow skipped lunch, so about 4pm I went to the In-and-Out burger place on Rengstorff and had a cheeseburger and a chocolate shake, nummm, as both lunch and supper. Then home for a brief nap, and to pick a movie to go out to, by way of passing the evening away from home. I picked Rocketman, an Elton John bio-pic because it was nearby and started at a convenient time, 6:30.

The movie was a rather sad downer, in that it very convincingly portrayed Reg Dwight’s loveless childhood and his miserable loveless life up until he put himself into rehab. It had about the steamiest man/man love scene I’ve watched. It would have been steamier than usual if it were a hetero sex scene, but with nude guys… Well, that’s just me, the innocent who (apparently unusual in this day and age) doesn’t watch porn on his computer.

Also unlike music bio-pics, and here I am thinking of Bohemian Rhapsody which I watched just a few weeks ago, Rocketman did not have a lot of emotionally satisfying musical performances. It seems to me that in Bohemian Rhapsody, in between all the drinking and sex, we got to watch several complete, or nearly-complete, Freddy Mercury performances. In Rocketman there is just one real “wow what a great song” scene, when Elton first performs “Crocodile Rock” at the Troubador in L.A., the breakout performance that made him a star in the U.S. And even that one, they cut short. All his and Bernie Taupin’s other great songs are done in snippets, or as accompaniment to big production numbers.

The movie only gets happy in the closing credits, when it shows you the real Elton John and recaps his career since getting sober, “28 years and counting”, his charity work, etc.

During the movie Chuck texted that the L.L. and her ex were done, and things still seemed positive.

Day 191, power out, stuff, painting, condenser

Well, last night was interesting. About quarter to seven I was watching TV when I noticed red lights reflecting on my walls. Looked out, there’s a fire truck parked in the street. And just then the power went out.

I joined other neighbors on the street. Pat and Rich down the block had noticed fumes coming from a transformer on the utility pole opposite their house. They called various numbers and got no quick response, so finally they called 911 and got a fire truck in 5 minutes. The fire crew were standing around looking at the fuming transformer (like a 30-gallon oil drum up at the top of a rather high pole) when the power went out for our block.

The P.A. Utilities arrived a few minutes later, as one guy in a van. He looked up at the pole and talked into a mic. A few minutes later a truck with a cherry picker arrived. This guy went up in the air and looked at the transformer close up. And came down and talked on his mic for a while.

I went back in the house. It was now too dark for reading print. I read on my laptop for an hour, by which time there were two utility trucks, working different poles along the street. So I went to bed. As on the previous night, our Pacific Ocean cooling breezes failed to come in. It was still over 80º at 9pm. Expecting the power to come on, I lay on top of the bed in my clothes.

At 10pm the light came on! I had just sat up when it went off again. I looked out; the utility guys were still working. At 2:45am I got up to pee; they were still working, now on a pole across from my house.

At 4am the lights came on to stay. There were still two Utility trucks and several workers. Hats off to the P.A. Utilities for working all night. This morning I see there are what looks like new transformers on two poles. Mind you, each pole has wires coming off in several angles to serve different houses. It is no joke steering the bucket of a cherry picker up through that to remove and replace heavy pieces of equipment — in the dark. Good work, guys.

Tuesday, 6/11/2019

Owing the heat I decided not to do explicit exercise this morning. Instead stayed in and took care of more minor to-dos.

I went around the house clipping the Virginia Creeper tendrils back from the windows.
I went on eBay and found somebody selling old-style (TO-5) transistors and ordered a few to replace the ones that some visitor pocketed from me (Day 188).
I made PDF files out of my Medical Power of Attorney and Advanced Health Care Directive documents — the same documents I need to hand in at C.H. — and emailed them to the people named in them as my representatives, Dennis and Darlene.
Then I went on the DocuBank site. This is a site where you can file your medical info, and you carry a card with your user id and a PIN, and any provider can download your info. I checked; yup, it had my old Advanced Directive, naming Marian as my rep. So I uploaded a new one.
I went out to the Comcast/XFinity store and picked up my new DVR and cable modem boxes, and stopped at Fry’s to buy a digital audio cable.

Somewhere in this flurry, Deborah texted to find out when a buyer could take my bed. I said, I don’t need it after Saturday. Could they get it Saturday? Um, no, I’m gonna be kind of busy; is Sunday OK?

Chuck texted; the Lawyer Lady wants to come by “with an architect” to measure the house inside and out to make remodeling plans. Could they come at 2? Oh sure why not. So at 1:45 I left and for lack of a better option (in hindsight I can think of several) went to FOPAL and did sorting for 2 hours.

Then at 4 I came home, changed shirts, and drove to CH for the 6th Floor Meeting and supper after.

This meeting was helpful in one way. CH encourages people to hang their art on the hallway walls. The wall outside your unit is your gallery space. You are supposed to identify your prints and paintings with your name on the back, but there are many that are not identified. People die or move away, their relatives don’t pick up their art (or don’t care), things collect.

There is a large painting of a lighthouse just opposite the 6th floor lounge where the meeting is held. Agenda item 1, Craig announced, is that one of the residents would really like to have this for themselves, as the wife grew up near the depicted lighthouse. The painting has no name on it and nobody has claimed it. Would the assembled meeting be willing to give the painting to so-and-so. Aye, so moved.

Next, what to hang there? Someone had offered a painting of the Stanford Quad. A picture of it was passed around on Craig’s phone and nobody much liked it. Well, I have my Linsky painting of Yosemite Valley and had been wondering where I could hang it for public view that would have adequate light. I put my hand up and offered it, and later passed around its picture on my phone. Everyone liked it, so that’s done. On Saturday it can go straight up on the wall opposite the lounge.

After supper I looked at my phone and found Chuck had texted about the L.L.’s visit. One, it wasn’t an architect she’d brought, but her ex-husband! Looking for his OK? Apparently he approved, anyway. Two, the $50K deposit has been wired to the escrow. That doesn’t mean the sale is locked in, she could still pull out, but it’s pretty solid. And three, oh by the way, while they were there, they noticed the A/C condenser smoking, and pulled the breaker on it.

See the first paragraph of yesterday’s post! Did I jinx myself? I put the breaker back and tried the A/C. I could hear a relay click, but the condenser fan doesn’t turn. The condenser is pretty old — I could go get the red binder and check, but why — so not a surprise. I went on Yelp and did the thing where you request quotes from multiple vendors. Hopefully I can get it fixed this week.

Day 190, early bird gobbles worms left, right

Monday, 6/10/2019

This is the first day of the week leading up to my move to Channing House. Also the second day of a heatwave. Yesterday the A/C started up for the first time this year. I was pleased it seems to be working fine. I worry about something expensive breaking before I can get the place transferred to its new owner.

Due to the promised heat I started my run at 7:30, and was back in the house about 8:40, which is the hour when I usually set out, in cooler weather. Showered and shaved I started into a to-do list. Item one was to plant out the Bathroom Plant. Long boring story here. For decades we’ve had some kind of green plant in a nice pot behind the basin in the bathroom. There’s a triangular space just right for one. For the last, oh, decade? it has been a single plant, some kind of a thing that grew up in a single stem putting out radial shoots with pretty finger leaves, kind of like a miniature cannabis. Every couple of years it would get too big. Marian would ruthlessly whack off the top six inches, throw out the bottom, stick the cut-off top in fresh potting mix, and it would grow up again, a single stalk with pretty leaves. Last time she did this, I took the bottom with its root ball and planted it out in the back garden.

OK, I’m moving out, the new owner will likely demolish and rebuild the bathroom (at least, that’s what Chuck would have done as part of “staging” the house, had we got to that), so the plant needs to go. I took it out of its pretty pot; put that with the other pretty pots to be sold for two bits each, if that, in The Sale; dug a wee hole next to its previous incarnation, which is thriving in the back yard, and stuck it in. Good luck, little plant.

Next up, the wax plants. These are sentimental favorites of mine. They started from a single cutting that Marian’s long-time friend Lolly gave her. They’ve been hanging in two windows for at least a decade, surviving on a single, weekly watering, putting out copious blooms of their tiny amethyst and white flowers a couple times a year. I want to take them with me to CH, just for nostalgia’s sake, but how? It is possible to have pot hangers put up but it requires scheduling a facilities person, and also knowing where you want the bracket to go. No way to set that up prior to the move. So I bought the wrought-iron hangars in the picture on Amazon. They aren’t tall enough to handle the existing pots, which were suspended by two-foot-long wires. So I bought the nice hanging pots shown, also on Amazon (although I did shop three local nurseries first). Now it was time to transplant them.

The one in the kitchen window was growing in a round pot smaller than a tennis ball. I knew that inside that pot would be a solid sphere of roots and I would have to break the pot to get it out. I did, and it was. I cut it back quite a bit first, then broke the pot and moved it, pulling and tucking the branches to pass through the strings. And soaked it good.

The one from the dining room window was easier to get at, sitting in a 5-inch plastic dish. Again a solid root ball, actually a disk, which just fit the mouth of the new pot. This one I didn’t cut back, but that meant I had to do a lot of violence to the limbs to get them between the strings of the pot. Yeah, I could have untied the strings and re-tied them. But I didn’t. Anyway there they are, and if they don’t just wither up and die from the abuse, they’ll do nicely on the deck of my apartment.

About now I called Chuck to get a status on the sale. He had talked to the agent, who hadn’t heard anything from her client, but thought they would want to bring a building inspector and perhaps an architect, sometime this week. The appraiser is scheduled to visit on Wednesday. I don’t need an appraisal for the sale, but I do need it to document the value “as of” December, so Katie the Tax can properly calculate the value of Marian’s estate. If by chance the appraiser comes in with a number higher than we’ve settled on with the buyer, I could possibly claim a tax loss on the sale. (Hmmm — if by chance he came in lower than the sale price, I would by the same logic have to pay for a capital gain!) I don’t care about either; I will only emphasize to the appraiser that I want a number that will be bulletproof under the gaze of an IRS agent.

To-do items continued to fall: I mopped the kitchen floor, which needed it; I swept the wood floors in the bedroom and living room; I got out a copy of my Health Care Directive (aka “living will”) and my Power of Attorney and set them aside to drop off at CH next time I’m there, which I should have done two weeks ago.

Then I did something I only conceived of in the middle of the night last night. I was imagining showing the new owner around, giving her the benefit of years of experience with the house. I’d like to do that IRL, although it probably won’t happen. But, in the depths of the night, I imagined she would want to see the attic, and I remembered that in the attic there were several rat traps I had placed the last time we had unwanted roof-rat tenants. And very possibly there would be a mummified dead rat in one of them. Not cool! So I got out the ladder and climbed up into the attic and cleaned out the rat traps. There was one mummified rat, but it was out on the floor, not in a trap. Odd. Then I climbed under the house, just far enough into the crawl space to grab the three rat traps that I had put under there two years back (no dead rats). All into the trash. Now, if Lawyer Lady wants to see the attic or crawl space, she won’t be shocked.

(I am assuming that a thirty-something partner in a law firm is not a handy-person, rather one whose only acquaintance with screwdrivers involves orange juice and vodka, and who’ll have only a remote intellectual interest in things like attics, drains, or irrigation. That might be totally unfair! It would be pleasant surprise to find she really was into home maintenance topics.)

Next item on the list was to order my Channing House TV service and DVR from Comcast. I called the number Craig game me and got an odd message, “the service you request is not available at this time, try again later.” (I did try later and got to a helpful customer service rep who set me up. I’m getting the fancy DVR that Craig recommended, and an upgraded channel selection, for a total of $25/month. Which is about $115 less than my current DirecTV subscription runs.)

And then I wrote all the above, and it is just 11:05. Let’s hear it for early starts! Next scheduled event is the 12-2pm window when my last two bits of furniture from West Elm are due. I think I’ll have a nap.

The furniture delivery arrived about 1pm, two very courteous guys unboxed and brought in my new settee and my media console. I am very pleased with the settee; it looks like quality, and the color and style of the woodwork exactly matches that of my 50 year old coffee table (it’s actual mid-century modern).

The media console looks good and its color and style coordinates well with the other items. There’s a bit of a problem in that my sound bar doesn’t fit very comfortably in it. From the web catalog page I had hoped it would. Actually, it might fit; if rotated up on its front edge it could tuck into the back, but I’d need to hold it in place with duct tape or something. Or it would fit nicely if I took a jig saw and cut out two, 4×6 rectangles from some uprights, heh. To be determined. Also the subwoofer box doesn’t go into it. I may look for a smaller subwoofer.

Once the delivery guys left, I went out into the heat (over 90 in the shade) and went down to FOPAL. On this day-after-sale weekend it is time to look at every book in the section. Ones that have been around for 3 months go the bargain room. Ones with prices over $4 get repriced lower. Then I culled the 5 boxes from the sorting room. These had a very high proportion of books over 10 (many over 20) years old. If they don’t cover some relatively timeless subject, they go. I ended up pricing and shelving only about 20 books from the five boxes.

I grabbed some bottles of soda from the grocery next door, and on impulse some Indian food from the deli counter, and headed home to relax in the glow of a day of accomplishments. Yay, me.

Day 185, FOPAL, furniture, volunteer dinner

Wednesday 6/5/2019

Went for a run. It seemed a little harder than usual, possibly because, for the first time this year, the air was already warm at 9am. About 11:30 I went down to FOPAL for the usual Wednesday sorting session.

Back home I found an email from Katie the tax accountant, giving a list of the documents they will need to proceed with the estate tax filing, the infamous Form 706. It looks like an hour or more finding documents. I decided to defer that to Friday.

Also in my in-box: email from IKEA giving the delivery time for my bed and mattress: sometime between 9am and 9pm Friday. That led me to refresh the page tracking the order of my remaining furniture items. Back in April I went to West Elm and ordered a bunch of things (Day 137). A couple of items I took home that day as flat packs; they are now in the big pile in the dining room. A couple more arrived last week. Two other items were delayed. Now, refreshing the tracking page, I see that the last of them has arrived at the local warehouse.

Let’s see, I had a piece of paper documenting my last conversation with the West Elm deliver center, where did I put it? Panic, panic. Not in any penda-flex. Oh, there’s a banker’s box where I put all the stuff from the top of the desk. Hah! inside it, along with pictures and desk items, is the piece of paper with the receipt and phone number.

So I call the delivery center and the nice person sets me up for delivery on Monday. That will complete my furniture; everything will be here by Monday night, ready for the movers to take to CH on Saturday. Wow.

On the day I move I will need to unbox and assemble: a bed, a settee, a table, two chairs, an arm chair, and a desk. The bed is the only essential one, but I arranged with Angela to schedule a Channing House Facilities Person to assist me for three hours, 2-5pm that day. She is supposed to get back to me if that won’t be possible, owing to it being a weekend, in which case I will have to hire a gig worker, probably from TaskRabbit.com, the outfit that IKEA suggests for assembly work.

At 4:40 I headed out, to the Museum for the annual Volunteer Appreciation Dinner. A pretty low-key event, 50 or so gray-haired folks getting thanked by the Museum staff, free dinner and drinks. Some interesting news was mentioned by both Len Shustek (the board member and major donor, whose name is on the Shustek Center in Fremont where I spend alternate Thursdays), and by Dan’l Lewis, the CEO. When 20 years ago the Museum was able to buy its present building from the bankrupt Silicon Graphics (wow, has it been that long since SGI went under?), the $25M purchase included not just the big white building at Shoreline and 101, but 17.5 acres of land surrounding it. Most of that acreage is asphalt parking lots. Meanwhile Google has been buying up all the surrounding land, with future plans for a huge development, thousands of homes and retail.

Len reviewed some of the other computer museums, and talked about how difficult it was to create a museum that would last. The excellent Living Computer Museum in Seattle had only one major donor, Paul Allen, who died last year. Now its funding is in doubt. One I’d never heard of, the American Computer and Robotics Museum in (of all places) Bozeman, MT, is struggling. It was the work of a married couple, and now the husband has died and the widow is trying to carry on. So with these examples in mind, the Museum board is considering what they might do with some of their parking lots, possibly developing part of the space in a way that would increase the Museum’s endowment substantially and help ensure its longevity.