Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Y’all can calm down about the cow dung
I mean, we have (calmed down).
First thing this morning, we drove back to Dung House and smelled the neighborhood. Not a trace of poop. I greeted a young guy who was walking his dog and asked him — Do you like the neighborhood? (Yes.) Does it ever smell like cow poo? (Huh? Whaa?)
Perhaps a freak occurrence, some over-liberal use of fertilizer nearby . . . undaunted, windows down, we drove towards the nearby undeveloped land, which easily could be pasture land. Up the hill we saw a large facility that might have been a slaughterhouse. It was under construction, and since there were no “No Trespassing” signs on the gate, we drove in to get a look at the signs that were posted.
No clues there, but a bored security guard drove up behind us to tell us we were trespassing. He kindly answered all of our questions. No, it’s not a slaughterhouse. It’s a school. That big thing that looks like a slaughterhouse? It’s a gymnasium. (If they play war ball there — same difference.) Does he ever smell cow poop in the area? Nope.
So Dung House rises to the top of our list; I guess we’ll find out tomorrow if our credit checks out.
Meanwhile, we’re back home, and I’m looking at our view with sad, sad eyes. The sky is clear, the breeze is cool, the tide is high. This was probably the only place on the Pacific Coast where we could have afforded oceanfront, so Karen and I were a couple of lucky shits to find this place. Will we ever get back to the ocean? Who knows. Maybe I’ll be fabulously successful in Santa Rosa, and we’ll buy a little cabin in Bodega Bay.
It’s hard to believe we’ll be leaving so soon. Have I mentioned lately how poorly I handle change?
D.
No, it’s not a slaughterhouse. It’s a school.
Not terribly surprising, actually. Around here, the most recently built schools look like prisons, right down to the barbed-wire fencing.
When did our schools turn into prisons? When we were kids, we could hang out on campus on the weekends — to use the swings, fields, outside basketball courts. Some time in the 80s, I think it all changed.
Maybe it’s changed for you ‘Murcans. Up here, we can still visit our schools on the weekend – heck, Monkeyboy and I spent part of this afternoon at the same playground he visits at recess. No metal detectors, either 🙂
Perhaps it’s regional, too. In California, it’s bad.
I wonder if maybe your rental agent is the agent. Perhaps he/she was walking around with a load in his/her pants.
About that “poopie smell”, it wouldn’t hurt to look into what was there before the school was built. It’s a little ealry for fertilizer, isn’t it? The place sounds great.
I hate change too (hard to believe, given where I moved), so I know how you feel. However, you CAN go “home” again.
When did our schools turn into prisons?
Maybe with the advent of School-to-Work programs, where education started to shift from turning out knowledgeable citizens to churning out a compliant workforce.
Sheesh. The top of the list? Sorry. Stench gets me every time. Course look where I live. Murder capital of the World.
It doesn’t smell any more.
But just watch. When we move in, it’ll be smelly. It’s like with this home: when we saw it, it smelled fine. When we saw it a second time, it still smelled fine. And when we moved in, it smelled like a civet cat had died beneath the floorboards.