Here are my Evernotes notes.
20170304-1608. Crazy neighbor headed northbound on MY long stretch of road as Fence guys nailing west planks near door. Mom jiggling on ZAAZ machine. Earlier
20170304- 1307. Fence guys came back after break at 1029. Came here around 0805. Posts were put up. Then I hurried to clean up the broken corner stones that the builders rejected. Took photos. Symbolic again. Sigh.
20170303-1227. Fence guy arrived 1225 per Dad. He came home late an hour ago and said he waited thirty minutes inside bank.
20170303-0825. Ash Wednesday noontime mass, Filipina asked Mom I was wondering what happened to you guys. The tall whitish husband ignored us as he turned red in the face while praying hours Bible. Both can sing but i sang loudly.
20170303-0805. Fence guy came with brother, unloading cement. Where’s the wood? Yesterday came 0845, left 1705.
20170301-1511. Resting in patio. 0158, fence guy cut old gutter cement with circular saw, fashioned plastic gutter spout.
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Anyway, I’ve gotten a relapse due to cold exposure of cleaning up hosed down cement dust into the street gutter yesterday and today also of cleaning up the debris from the cornerstone, which the builders rejected. I guess the Vietnamese of my neighbor have alerted each other. Sigh.
So the seven of eight ‘sections’ of the west/street-facing fence planks have been up. They left around 1700. The north/front-facing side gate to this project is still in-planked. Y’all shall walk the plank! Plank! They might come back next Monday because Dad has an appointment on Tuesday. Sunday is temple day for Buddhist. If they wanna get their remaining two grand or so, they could finish soon.
Behold! The Lawd Gawd and pals have held back the rains. Since depressurizing my system around eight o’clock this evening, Dad said the rains were pouring hard. I looked up into the heavens, nay, connected to ‘central command’ and requested that the rains be held back until the three layers of hollow blocks, or greyish bricks, dried. Thanks and blessings.
Usually, it’s Mom that ‘they’ connect. I’m just filtering her noise through my personal weblog.
Even during the Ash Wednesday mass, the pastor was busy marking the swollen one and the other priest, the tall reptilian one who looks upwards, sighs, and prayed about ‘sacrifices’ he made, I’m sure. He wasn’t sure or didn’t wanna seem to mark my E.T. forehead.
That’s why I didn’t sing at the evening mass because I already got marked. I didn’t take a forehead photo as proof.
Now I’m congested. There’s no way I’m gonna sing tomorrow. Phooey on socialism and religion!
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