Saturday evening in the town of Jonesborough, TN. The nation is midway through the Memorial Day weekend celebration. We've driven into town to a contra dance. Gloria is dancing and socializing. I stationed outside the dance floor, taking entry fees from other dancers as they arrive. The pay gate seems to elicit rather more rudeness than one would expect.
This particular gate, a long table at the side of two outward opening doors, is already laden with dance flyers. Then the necessary sign-in sheets, fees schedule, and workspace are crowded into the remaining surface area. The fees are posted in the newspaper articles and have not changed since January. Other than first time attendees, everyone should know what it will cost. Yet 50% or so will wait until they are at the front of the line to begin retrieving their money. This creates a delay in the process and causes a pile-up in an already narrow entry lane. Others seem to feel that the table is intended for them to dump everything that they are carrying in order to begin searching for money. Invariably this mixes all the fliers up and scatters them. All too often, they fail to pick up all their belongings. Then they return later expecting me to recall them and what they left. Invariably at least two people tonight will walk away leaving their 32 ounce soda cup behind. It’s empty so they are too busy to carry it with them and dispose of it properly.
The entry lane is a magnet for conversations that would be better moved to other areas of the venue. I fail to understand how anyone can be comfortable in a tightly compacted traffic path, obstructing the normal flow and causing a pile up to develop all around.
The dance continues inside the hall. The push of people paying to enter is accompanied by questions I can barely hear. “Did my husband/wife pay for me?” “Where’s the bathroom?” The crowds noise from inside and out makes the music little more than a distorted jumble. The few times I’ve been inside, it has been very difficult to hear music over crowd noise.
We opened the pool Tuesday, only to discover a flaky ground-fault outdoor dual receptacle, which prevented the pump running. No pump, no filter. In pursuing that problem, Gloria noticed a sooty stain on the power switch for the pool heater. A closer look revealed a switch that was completely fried, mostly incinerated and crumbling, we, the pool service company, and the electrician all believe that it is the result of some manner of lightning strike. We had it replaced Tuesday and the GFI switch worked as well when the electrician laid hands upon it.
Wednesday it rained, Thursday it rained, heavily. We had severe thunderstorms. Just north of us, there was a radar-defined tornado that generated warnings for 2.5 hours. The 0.75 inches of rain requires a re-balance of the pool that is already notoriously slow to clear in the spring.
After three days of following the regimen suggested by the pool service, I give in. Gloria has added the clarifier that she has wanted to add since Wednesday. We’ll see what transpires. In the mean time, I have brushed the pool down twice a day, back-flushed, added more water to replace that removed by back flushing and evaporation. The solar blanket went on yesterday despite the lack of water clarity.
Last night, about 2245, the upper field across the street was visited by members of the family that bought it. They’ve done nothing with it but race dirt bikes, hold loud parties, and start a forest fire. Their presence was announced by a bass speaker that we could hear inside with our windows closed, the AC on, and the TV on. I decided to go up and ask them for quiet. As I was pulling on boots, they left. Unfortunately, at 0315, ca, they returned with full bass and chainsaw. I dragged out of bed and walked up the road. Fortunately, they responded to a request for less noise. I thanked them and tried to regain fractured sleep.
Today’s newspaper did not arrive. It will not arrive. I refuse to waste half a gallon of gas driving out to the highway and back to buy a copy. We’re both fed up with the paper delivery. It’s not that good a paper but the political news – local and regional- can be important.
Dinner tonight will be smoked/grilled bratwurst and grilled romaine Caesar salad. Hopefully, our dessert will be a quiet evening.
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