Irrefloofable (catfinition) – a cat with impeccable feline behavior.
In use: “Her pose on the window seat was irrefloofable.”
The Prize Dreams
I dreamed of prizes last night. There were at least dreams, or prizes, involved.
Awakening to Papi the ginger cat’s request to enter, I remembered the dreams. But after tending to him (and the other cats who were roused by the activity) and taking a whizz (of course, since I was up, is what my bladder seemed to say), the dreams were sharply recalled. I thought about them as I returned to bed and sleep. But, awakening this memory, I found that I’d suffered dream amnesia. I remembered I’d dreamed about prizes, and there’d been three dreams, but I only remember one prize.
The prize was part of a game. Doing activities in the game earn you points. Most activities earn you one to four points. But the prize I won was a collector bill. Considered extremely rare, it was worth one hundred fifty points.
Bummer that this is all I remember, other than grinning like mad when I won it. Perhaps more will return to me later.
Saturday’s Theme Music
Another Who offering has hooked into my streaming memories.
This one, “Join Together,” was released in 1972, while I was in high school. I remember hearing it and thinking, that’s the Who, because they always had a distinctive sound, especially with Daltry’s voice. Like a lot of Who songs, interesting sounds, instruments, and arrangements lend Who songs thickly textured melodies. I like that. I prefer complications in books, movies, and music. At the same time, I’ve always been invested in guitar sounds. That’s why the guitar draws me to a lot of southern urban rock, and blues, or blues-rock, and classic rock. But even with Townsend’s synthesizers, the Who prevail and maintain a hold as one of my favorite rock groups.
Here’s “Join Together.”
The Pre-writing Walk
A northern wind slices off some of the sun’s warmth. It’s a surprisingly clear, bright sun, the kind of sun that appears after storms dump inches and feet of snow.
But there’s no snow today. Snow is as rare as found diamonds this year. Ashland’s traffic is light. Town’s energy emanates a feel-good vibe. Restaurants are gearing up for lunch. Enticing aromas tempt and tease on every corner and most doors. I identify grilled burgers, French fries, and grilled onions among the scents. There are others that tantalize but leave without identification. We have a lot of good eateries and abundant offerings. Fortunately, their plot to capture me is avoided.
The writer, editor, and I discuss today’s writing plans, works spoken only in my head, so others don’t pin unwanted labels on me. The plans are fully developed, and I’m eager to get to them.
Still, I walk, thinking about last night’s dreams. One in particular trots alongside my thoughts. I was doing dishes, and I had a plan, but I was falling behind…is that about writing, life, or something else? It involved a POTUS but not the current guy. Others want to step in to help me, but a woman instructs them, “Let him go.” I struggle, turning in different directions, becoming thoughtless and distracted about what I was doing. It occurs to me that the sinks in my dream were full of dirty dishes and hot, soapy water. I slip a reminder into my head to look that up.
Lifted by the day, I walk longer and farther than planned, but finally make the turns necessary to reach my office away from home, the coffee shop where I write. ‘My’ space is available, and I take to it.
Time to write like crazy, at least one more.
Snowball
D’yer ever go into the grocery store with a plan to buy two or three things, and then say, “Oh, and we need this, too, and we’re almost out of that,” and exit half an hour later seventy dollars lighter, carrying two full shopping bags?
It just kind of snowballs sometimes, doesn’t it?
Friday’s Theme Music
Confession: I didn’t know who sang this song. Nor do I remember the first time I heard it. After looking up the artist, I still didn’t know who he was, but I knew the song from AM radio.
“Down in the Boondocks” apparently came out in 1965. I was nine. The performer with the hit was Billy Joe Royal. After googling him, I found I knew several of his songs, like “Cherry Hill Park.”
“Down in the Boondocks” started streaming in my head while I was talking to Tucker (one of my cats) and emptying the dishwasher. Yeah, I don’t see the connection either.
Contrefloof
Contrefloof (catfinition) – 1. an embarrassing or unexpected occurrence involving a cat; 2. a dispute or disagreement between cats.
In use: “A contrefloof erupted when Tucker discovered Papi with the catnip sausage.”
Floue
Floue (catfinition) – the grimace of pouting distaste that cats sometimes direct at people
In use: “Michael opened a can of Qunn’s favorite food and put it in a bowl, but with a disappointed floue, Quinn mimicked burying it, and then hurried away.”
Whinge Binge
Our Roomba is dead. Long live our Roomba.
Well, maybe not dead. The motor runs, it makes all the expected noises, the lights come on, it runs around, and air comes out, but the brushes aren’t turning, and it’s not picking up. Roomba support is urging me to call them, which I’ll do. I want to get to the bottom of this.
The Roomba has lasted only a few years. It’s our third Roomba. The first two died mysterious deaths. I eventually learned that my cat was pissing on it.
That surprised us. Lady was a sweet rescue. Never put a paw wrong. All she wanted was some food, a quiet place in sunshine, and a warm lap. We were happy to oblige.
It was a surprise to discover she was pissing on the Roomba in her final months. She didn’t like the Roomba; it disturbed her rest. I figured she said to herself, “I’m dying and I’m going to piss on that machine before I go. What are they going to do? Kill me?”
The Roomba folks were good about it. A refurbished machine was provided at a discount price. We kept Lady away from it.
The Roomba’s decline and possible death is parcel to a larger pattern. We bought our house in 2006. They’d just finished building it. Brand spanking new to use a cliche that I know but don’t really understand (how does spanking fit in?), my wife and I were the house’s first occupants.
All the appliances were new. Everything. Yet, in the eleven years we’ve lived here, we’ve had issues.
- The central vac system developed a control board problem at five years. We had to replace the unit.
- The water heater’s thermal coupler went out after seven years. When it happened again a year later, we replaced the water heater.
- Also at seven years, the gas furnace’s control module died and was replaced.
- At nine years, the central air’s capacitor died. It happened again the next year, but the repair tech had taught me about it, so I saved labor and replaced the part myself.
- At seven years, we became suspicious of the range’s oven. It’s a gas unit. Gas isn’t something we like to mess with, so a repair tech was summoned. Parts were tested but nothing resolved. We bought an internal thermometer to hang in the oven. It confirmed that the oven is erratic and unpredictable, rarely at the temperature that it’s set.
- Our solar panel’s inverter’s control board died earlier this year, one month short of its tenth anniversary. We received a new board free of charge but paid for labor. We’ve been keeping an eye on the system.
- Meanwhile, plastic panels that house the buttons on the range, dishwasher, and washer have all cracked and splintered, which we first noticed in 2013, when these appliances were but seven years old.
- The microwave began collecting condensation inside the door, and then rust appeared inside the door, and grew.
Naturally, these things angered my wife and me. These are Maytag, Kenmore, Rheem, etc. Supposed to be quality stuff, maybe not the apex of quality, but high enough up the pyramid that you wouldn’t expect these issues.
So, I did what I always do when encountering problems: I researched. I looked for how common these issues are, and how difficult and pricey they are to fix. I did this each time things happened.
I learned that water heaters will usually last seven years in modern America. Most other appliances die at ten years. That’s our new standard.
We learned that most dishwashers are manufactured in one giant factory. So are ranges and microwaves.
I learned that the control panel’s broken plastic can only be repaired by replacing the entire control panel assembly, and it’s not cheap. Replacing that still leaves us vulnerable to other parts and assemblies breaking because, hey, they’re ten years old. That’s their expected life.
Appliances are being replaced. We’re not happy about it, but we’re fortunate that we’re financially secure and can do this without significant strain. Let me tell you, it’s not a cheap process.
We’re beginning with the microwave and range. New ones have been purchased. We’re awaiting their delivery and installation.
We’re not certain what we’re going to do about the rest. Only our refrigerator, a Jenn-Air, is still running as expected and hoped for when we purchased it. We’ve looked at washers and dryers, and dishwashers. They’re not cheap, America. More, it annoys us on a fundamental economic and social level, even philosophical, you might say, that these appliances require replacements. Our parents had appliances that lasted them a lifetime. So do our older friends. It’s irritating that America has succumbed to this new and wasteful approach.
Meanwhile, I’ll call the Roomba folks tomorrow.
Thursday’s Theme Music
Tom Petty did some good rock and roll, with and without the Heartbreakers, keeping the beat alive. This particular song is one that streams into me once in a while without any connection to anything else. It was released in 1981, just before we left America for an extended tour on Okinawa, but I don’t remember it making an impression on me at the time. Honestly, REO Speedwagon’s album, High Infidelity, which came out the year before, was still the hot album for people like me.
Michael Seidel, writer 