Crisis---of a sort (The Runaway Bidet

 I have no plumbing skills or knowledge thereof, and I suspect that if there had ever been a need, I would have recused myself from attempts to rectify any problems. In the more than seven years I have been living alone, I have dealt with problems as they arose, to the best of my ability.

  Occasionally, and for no apparent reason, I notice that the toilet is running. So I jiggle the handle and it stops, or flush again, and it stops. Today, the toilet was running and jiggling the handle and re-flushing had no effect. I know there is a flap inside the tank that sometimes can fail to fall into the right place, so I removed the top of the water tank in an attempt to see if the flap was out of place. I couldn't see if it was or not, so pressed on a few surrounding pieces. In that process, the black cap atop one of the pipes came off, and a geyser erupted, spewing water up into the air and all over me, drenching my face and clothing. After I dried off, and changed my clothes,  I tried to replace the cap, but with difficulty, as the force of the water was too great. Water, water, everywhere, the floor, the counter, the walls...I pressed down on the cap as hard as I could and put the lid back on to contain the water. 

  Now what to do. I'd looked on the side of the toilet for a shut-off valve, but found nothing there. Normally I would have called Joe T. but knew he was having a scheduled  in-hospital procedure that very day. I considered calling the Fire Department for help, but they now would have to come from Johnsonville as Valley Falls no longer has one. I called David, but no answer, probably no longer has a landline. I called Danny who tried to help me find a shut-off valve, to no avail. I went to the basement to look for the valve, and the water is leaking down from the ceiling beams and puddling on the floor, with no valve in sight.   Danny exercised executive privilege and called Marilyn's house anyway. 

  In short order, the whole family arrived here and the problem was resolved. I understand replacement parts are available but I prefer to opt for a complete new unit. Something free of care for the next 57 years.

Cop Cam noted

 85-year-old woman in Idaho called 911 saying an intruder had broken into her house, handcuffed her to a chair and with his gun pistolwhipped her into telling him where her valuables were. She told 911 she was still handcuffed to the kitchen chair (Hallelujah) and had been shot several times by the intruder. She requested medical help. The responder sounded somewhat skeptical, but told her police and ambulance were on the way. Responder asked where the intruder was now. The woman said in the kitchen, on the floor, dead. Turns out the victim had sent the intruder downstairs in search of her valuables, and had then maneuvered her handcuffed chair into her bedroom, took her  gun from under her pillow, and then, concealing it, returned to where she had come from. When he came back into the room, they exchanged gunfire, with her receiving several gunshot wounds and he 2 of the fatal nature. 

  That's what old women do. On Turnpike Road in Lansingburg, Ann D. kept hidden on her frail body a pair of the largest, sharpest scissors I've ever seen. ***For all the years, B. lived alone (possibly before), she kept a sharp deadly looking butcher knife under her pillow. I used to tell her that if she was ever the victim of an attack in her bed, and brandished the knife, it would most likely be used against her. It would be very hard to stab somebody while lying down. She said she knew that, but kept the knife beneath her pillow anyway. ***A gun would be more effective, but I am still haunted by the prospect of a nightmare scenario on Charming Lane. When D. lived there alone, she was far from old and was trained in the use of the loaded gun which she kept beneath her pillow. I wasn't at the house at the time of the unfolding of events as I'd driven my mother to a doctor in the nearby city, but there are still a few who will have some memory of the horror of what could have happened when a distracted by visitors gun owner forgets about the gun under the pillow, and pre-school aged children are allowed access to that bedroom, while the adults are visiting elsewhere in the house. It is a reminder for me to keep saying my prayers. 

Want to test yourself?

 If you would like to spend 45 minutes answering this question about the poem "Winter Landscapes" I will gladly grade your response, but unfortunately can grant no credit. (This was my mid-term exam for English 29.  Prompt:  "Tell what this poem intends to convey, and how this intention is carried out by development of poetic ideas, images and prosodic devices."    (O lordy, this is a long winter already.)

Winter Landscapes

Come home with white gulls waving across gray

Fields. Evening. Daffodil West.

Somewhere in clifts of rock the birds hide, beast to breast.

I warm with fire. Curtain shrouds dying day.

Alone.  By the glowing ember

I shut out the bleak-tombed  evenings of November. 

And breast to breast, those swans. Sheep huddle and press

Close. Each to each. Oh,

Is there no herd of men like beasts where men may go?

Come home at last; come, end of loneliness.

Sea. Evening. Daffodil West.

And your thin dying souls against Eternity pressed.

Auto-Infestation

 My car is kept in good condition, no remnants of food or drink or  extra materials of any kind. It just passed inspection and the engine looks clean as can be. Yesterday, on a visit to my home, my son said the air filter should be replaced. News to me. I have all maintenance performed in a timely manner whenever required. No one has mentioned replacing the air filter. 

  I would not have known that the glove box could be removed in its entirety, but evidently that's where that above-mentioned filter is located. Son went to the store, purchased a new filter, and on replacement, removed this* from whatever area exists behind the glove box. Mice, chipmunks, who knows? I have to say I'm glad they stayed put when I was driving. *

O.K.: A Lesson from Cop Cam

 Recent video uncovered instance of ongoing Romanian Organized Retail Theft Ring. They detail how it works--all are impressed. Millions of dollars scammed by whom some call gypsies. A lot of sleight of hand, partnership, and a fast getway car. Walmart is a frequent target.

Cop Cam recollections

 My job as advocate for the children of migrant workers sometimes involved driving the parents to facilities where they could access some services for their kids. We worked with the children only, but of course we could help the parents access whatever benefits were available for their children.

  One location I drove a mother to was the Social Services building in Troy. What a grim and forboding process that was. There were several agencies in that old  building, and there was usually a line of current or would-be clients waiting to gain entrance when the doors opened. The first time I saw the line of people stretching down the sidewalk, I wondered why some of the men were holding belts in their hands. I  learned that part of the entry process involved security officers inspecting the lineup and ordering that the belts be removed before entering the building. I had the thought that a removed belt would be a more serious weapon being swung around rather than being fastened around the waist, but that would have affected only those outside in line, not the employees within. On entry, the belts and other potential weaponry were to be deposited at the security sign-in and checkpoint desk. 

  At the time, post medical therapy, I needed to drink water during the day, and so that probably was the start of my carrying a water bottle in my purse. As an employee of the BOCES services, I had been issued an ID tag, to be worn around our necks if we chose to do so. I chose not to, so most of the agencies seemed to presume I was the mother or friend of their client. That was fine with me.

The first time I went through the checkpoint the security agent, checking my purse, removed my small  water bottle and secured it on the shelf behind him. "Not allowed, once an employee was assaulted with a bottle."  So I left it, knowing I would never drink out of that bottle again. Ugh.  On subsequent trips, my client, A., would take my water bottle and, being a large person, secure it against her body and thus avoid detection. No one seemed to follow up. Until one day, I overlooked it and left the bottle in my purse, so I removed it at the desk. Bozo the Guard said to put it on the table near the elevator to our second-floor destination. I still had it in my possession when he must have noticed the empty table and called security. The cop showed up and told me to "Move along." So I went out and waited in my car.  

Small Victories

 The R.N. ( or P.A. ) had difficulty finding a vein to insert the IV for a transthoracic echo so decided to use my hand, kind of as a last resort. For the first time that I can ever recall, he asked afterward if it hurt. I said it was nothing that I would consider pain. He seemed relieved, saying,  "Then we'll call that a win." His name was John and he looked a lot like James Carville.   A short conversation to be sure, but  one of the few I've had with anyone outside my house. Thus the documentation.  

So....after wordle, which takes only a few minutes, I wait for Spelling Bee, where  I can usually get to Genius with little trouble, but find Queen Bee level to take much longer. So I watch the various Cop-Cam programming and then listen to a few Dad-jokes:  ---I wish someone could tell me what IDK means, but every time I ask, they say, "I don't know."