Best Craigslist ad ever: "Capitol Hill: Room in shared house, with dick." From the text of the ad, clearly the place includes a deck, not a dick. I was going to email a smartass reply, but by then they'd fixed the listing.

Maybe I can ease off on looking at Craigslist room-for-rent ads, though.

It's been a while since I've mentioned my flatmate Dean, who always always always wanted to talk at me. It was a problem, but it seems to have solved itself.

I didn't want him pissing into my almond milk, so I couldn't just tell Dean to shut up and fuck off and die. Instead I developed a Dean scheme, breezing past him with "Can't talk now" nine times out of ten, then listening for a few minutes on the tenth passing. Like Neville Chamberlain, it was a strategy of appeasement, and it meant suffering through another listen-to-Dean session about every 2-3 days.

Tacked to the wall just inside my bedroom, there's an index card with seven tick-marks, so I'd know when the next conversation is coming. It's been at seven ticks, though, for more than two weeks, since the last time Dean cornered me for conversation.

His big news that afternoon was that he'd been hired to cook for a downtown Hilton or Ramada or something. From that day to this, the house has been mostly Dean-silenced, and it's glorious.

Instead of hearing his pots and pans and talking to himself in our kitchen almost every morning and afternoon, he simply makes coffee in the very early hours, and then he's off to the Hilton/Ramada. Instead of hearing his lectures on unsalted butter and his life-history conversations with Robert through the kitchen walls, there's the delightful absence of sound.

Dean is gray, and told me he was retired, but maybe (like me) that only meant he was out of work. Never in my life have I been so happy that someone else found a job. Living here is sooooo much better now that Dean is employed, now that he's out of the house ten hours a day, and weary, not chatty, when he's home.

The floor still isn't flat, the hot water barely trickles, there are vermin, etc, and I don't like this boarding house, but I no longer abhor living here. When I leave my room, nobody's pleading for an unwanted conversation. Even if Dean's in the kitchen — which is uncommon now — when we see each other in passing, it's in passing. He lets me pass.

Today I did laundry, which requires walking past Dean's door four times over a couple of hours, but I didn't see him once. Boiled a can of vegetables, and Dean didn't emerge from his room to babble. Showered, and he wasn't waiting for me in the kitchen when I came out.

Midnight was meowing at the side door, so I opened it, let her outside, and stepped onto the porch to inhale some sunshine for a few minutes. Then I came back inside, walked through an empty hallway and kitchen into my bedroom, and said to myself, What a wonderful world.

Not much is worse than being proselytized, so I'll try not to preach too often, but today I gotta. My car won't start so I'm getting around 100% on public transit, and enjoying it, because public transit frickin' rocks.

The bus in front of my house comes only twice an hour, so I have to pay attention to the printed schedule, but after that first ride, all my regular buses run frequently, so there's no need to even glance at a timetable. I can get to the diner, the library, the grocery store, and it's not much hassle — just enough hassle that it feels like a victory when I get somewhere and back.

I enjoy the calculations, too. Like, here comes a #60 when I'd rather take a #128. If I take the #60 I'll have to walk a few extra blocks to get home. The #128 comes closer, but is that convenience worth waiting maybe ten minutes?

And should I ding the bell and de-bus at this stop, then walk four blocks to my house, slightly uphill and then it gets steeper at the end? Or should I ride two stops further, making my walk home twice as long, but all gently downhill? Today I opted for the longer walk down the hill, but it was sunny; the calculations might be different when it rains.

It would be quicker to drive, of course, but there are more important things than 'quick'. It's a relief, getting around without being encased in my own Chevrolet, which could get dented or a flat at any corner. I love looking out the window, and not caring if another driver wanders out of his lane, or the light takes too long to turn green. And a bus ride anywhere costs less than half the price of a gallon of gas.

On the bus, shopping is limited by how much I'm willing to lug home in bags, and I'm lazy and weak, not willing to lug a lot a long ways. Problem solved, though: I've ordered one of those folding granny-style carts. When it gets here, assuming it's not a wobbly piece of trash, I'll be able to shop thinking only about what I need and what it costs, not about what it weighs.

And day after day, my car sits lonely at the side of the road. Eventually I'll call AAA for a tow or a new battery, but not yet.

And now, the news you need, whether you know it or not…

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NY State is giving out hundreds of robots as companions for the elderly

Sounds very useful, but the article is mostly about the tech. I'm more concerned about how the state would decide who merits such a marvelous tool, and who'll be left out.

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Have we all noticed the increasing suckage of Google?

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"Add a hot babe."

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One-word newscast, because it's the same news every time...

• cops • cops • cops • cops • cops • cops • cops

• Republicans • Republicans • Republicans

6/22/2022
Tip 'o the hat to Linden Arden, ye olde AVA, BoingBoing, Breakfast at Ralf's, Captain Hampockets, CaptCreate's Log, John the Basket, LiarTownUSA, Meme City, National Zero, Ran Prieur, Voenix Rising, and anyone else whose work I've stolen without saying thanks.
Extra special thanks to Becky Jo, Name Withheld, Dave S, Wynn Bruce, and always Stephanie...