It rained here again. Before we arrived in Palm Springs, it had not rained here since June 2008. It has rained twice in one week, since we got here. It has to be the fact that we had The Love Boat washed and spiffed up when we got here. It never fails. The locals appreciate the rain and on some level so do I. I just wish it wouldn't mess up The Love Boat. I've been in California long enough that I'm starting to whine. Good lord, I'm going to slap myself.
Speaking of getting The Love Boat spiffed up, we had a local company that operates a mobile detailing service wash and debug The Love Boat minutes after we got here. It's not that I planned it that way, it just kind of fell in my lap--as they say. This company did a wonderful job of removing the insects that prostrated themselves on the windshield and bow of The Love Boat. I believe most of those were flies that were circling around those stinking hippies in Santa Fe. Regardless, the bugs were all over the bow. Now if you remember, our first slip in the trailerpark was next to Fancypants. I also need to remind you it was minutes after docking next to Fancypants, when the detailing guys pulled up. The owner of the detailing company is/was/seemed to be a very nice guy with very good interpersonal communication skills. Well as soon as the detailing guys got out of the truck, Fancypants sashsayed hurriedly to the owner of the company screaming, and I do mean screaming, for him not to wash "that thing" because he was having his roof sealed. I guess he was putting something on his trailer's roof, or maybe he was siliconing the great divide in his head. I don't know what he meant, and I really don't care. Really. Are you keeping up with me? Good. So, Fancypants and Detailer Guy are having a one sided screaming match, and I just knew we had docked in Trailerpark Hell. You might say Fancypants had his panties all bunched up. Detailer Guy stood and listened for a couple minutes then shook his head and went back to work. Of course, Fancypants then sashsayed himself back to Casa Crackpot. I didn't really think much of it until today.
Today, while we were leaving to go grocery shopping, I noticed Detailer Guy was washing the motorhome that had just pulled into the slip across from us. Detailer Guy walked over and asked us why we had changed slips. Of course, I told him about how Fancypants had complained about the puppies barking...yada, yada, yada. I didn't whine once during the conversation. That is when Detailer Guy informed us of his distaste for Fancypants due to the one sided screaming match between him and Fancypants. Detailer Guy said that "nobody should talk to him that way" to which I wholeheartedly agreed. Furthermore, he said while pointing at the back row of permanent residents, "...that some of the people that live here year round think they own the place". Well self-proclaimed Mayor Fancypants has now made a year round enemy. Can't we all get along? I need a hug. Yeah right. my big ole hairy butt.
There are two gazillion men walking around this town with man purses. What gives with that? When does a healthy man decide he needs to carry around a bunch of crap that won't fit in his billfold? Good night, what do they have in those things? Big Macs, Pocket Fishermen, blow dryers, Chihuahuas, socket wrench sets? It makes my head hurt.
I'll whine some more tomorrow. That is all for today.
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