Busted HVAC. Good thing Craig turned up before Morning Prayer to sort it out. And there we were, looking at the malfeasant unit. "Cuts off when the cover goes on. Why? Faulty board, pressure?" I didn't know but stood back while HVAC friend took a call from Waco.
"I need duct for... and some foots... and..." he turned to me me, call ended, "Where are we living, Babylon?" Ain't that the truth, and we discussed the current insanity of the way we live now. Then it was time to head to Itasca.
Itasca's an interesting little town, mainly because of its Amish(?) deli and Karen's Authentic Mexican Food. I like both but prefer Karen's, where you can get an awesome homemade bean brisket burrito. That in hand, off to the compound to meet a hauler. His job? Take out a '50's Chevy Panel van and an '82 'vette, which is exactly what he did.
It felt good, I tell you, being under the big sky and open air of Texas as opposed to some ersatz, strip mall facsimile. Not that I pour scorn any which way. Go on, knock yourself out at Red Lobster, Texas Roadhouse, Taco Bell, subWay, Panda Express or whatever, or enjoy Karen's. Your call. No rule.
In other news, an old pal's setting up some kind of pop concert at Chanel's HQ in Paris. In homage to Coco, or just for bucks? Maybe both. Whatever, if you want to get on the VIP list send an email, we can only say no, or YES.
Whatev. I'm not joining the Parisian party because I can't fly. No DevilVax you see.
Truly,
LSP
