It's useless to talk to my grandson anymore. Not that we really ever have an actual conversation anymore. I see him doing things that I consider self destructive, and then I make the mistake of telling him so. He looks at me with a blank stare, and I know he doesn't have a hint about where I'm coming from. I must learn to mind my own business. Just because we live in the same building, doesn't mean I get a say about anything.
Months ago I fired the contractor that I hired to remodel my attic. Long story short, I ended up with a new contractor who is actually a friend and business acquaintance of the first contractor. At first I didn't know what to think. Lately, things are starting to look up.
Yesterday, as the drywallers were finishing up their work, my new contractor arrived at my house. His goal was to finish up the plumbing work in the attic. I figured he'd arrive with another man who he would
It's been a while since I posted anything here. It's also been a while since I felt any hope about my attic getting finished. With that said. "I had workers in my house today". Honest to goodness workers, who were preparing my front hall for a new paint job. Workers who were putting in new drywall in my tenant's apartment.
My contractor is a complicated guy, and I won't go into a lot. I do know that I had a nice conversation with him, and I walked away from that with
My grandson is 18 years old now. I helped to raise him, so I guess when I look at him I still see the little boy that he was, or the very young teenager that I took to Disney World, and Disneyland. I guess some would say we were close, but really he doesn't talk much, and he really only tells his mom his deep dark secret thoughts.
Lately, he mostly nods at me. He has more friends than he used to. He doesn't introduce his friends to me. He is each and every day moving further and
My birthday is just 16 days away. I will be 64 on September the 4th. I don't feel that old. Well not inside my head anyway. The body is another story. The knees don't want to work sometimes. Especially when I am down, and I need to get up. Or I am pulling my wagon through a store, and my lower back starts hurting. I must make sure that I always travel with the ibuprofen, and the immodium for my nasty stomach.
I don't mean to complain. I am quite content with my life. Except
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