The lima bean debacle has been cleaned up. The dandelions have been removed from one small bed and a sizable section of a big garden bed. I have managed to slice off a chunk of one of my fingers and I have a huge zit on my lower lip.
I was hoping for a better week. I was all set to have things flow easily. I "hired" a camper to help with the tiling of the bathrooms. He was slow and would work for 15 minutes or so before he would suddenly leave to get a trowel or some other excuse. When he did stay on task, he did some wonky things with the tile that I discovered after it was too late to correct it. To say that I am disappointed would be an understatement. He said he knew how to tile ......
This is why I weed my own gardens. I know how. I don't want just anyone in my gardens, if I allow you to weed, it is an honor!! The grout goes on the wonky tile today. I am out of time and I want to be able to scrub the bathroom and have them ready for use.
Still waiting on a contractor to give an estimate on planting a new pole to hold the electrical wires. In the meantime I have 6 sites that I cannot rent out. The pool paint has not arrived. In spite of the throbbing finger I am still mowing and weeding and dumping 40 lb. bags of topsoil in gardens.
The zit is pretty ugly since I did a little surgery with a needle. And about that, I am 62 and zits should not be happening. So, I am already in a tizzy, worrying about all the things that need to be done in a short period of time. I was behind the dumpster, holding up a 12 ft. sign that is attached to fence surrounding that area, when a truck belonging to a group of temporary tenants came roaring down the entrance drive, blowing past the stop sign and sounding like he was gearing up for the small decline in the road towards his site.
I was unable to rush out to flag him down, what with me being the support for that sign while it was being worked on. Maybe that was a good thing, since he may had driven over me. The speed limit in most every park I have ever stayed in is 5 mph, mine is 10 mph. I feel that is pretty generous. So, why do people who live in their campers and travel to work not obey the speed limit?
Soon as I got relief I grabbed the trusty golf cart and zipped over to the area I designated to these workers. While trapped in my duties as a holder, I witnessed another speeding truck from the same group. They all seemed to be congregated in one area and I approached the first man I saw and asked if he knew the drivers of the two trucks.
I could smell the alcohol wafting from his pores as I approached. He was battering fish to fry. He said, "Well, why don't you just go find them." I thought that was what I was doing and his attitude really pissed me off, so I said, "By the way, do you know what the speed limit is this park?" He looked at me with his bleary eyes and said, "Nope." I said, "Well it is posted throughout the park, as well as stop signs and I suppose you don't know what they mean either."
Yes, I know that was bitchy. I walked on to find the culprit of the loud truck and addressed his group, asking if anyone there might be aware of the speed limit. One guy said he thought it was probably 5 mph. Despite the loud music and the whooping of the other group, I saw an opportunity to educate them. I don't really need magnification of my voice, so I gave my speech about stopping at stop signs and driving the speed limit and the reasons why this is a safety issue for children who may be riding bikes. This group was respectful and the culprit apologized and promised to stop and slow down. That was all I wanted.
Back to my first encounter who shall now be referred to as A$$hole #1. I had to walk past him to retrieve the golf cart and make my departure. He informed me that they all had kids and they did slow down and that they took care of "their" kids. I did not reply that I thought that was all very well and good, but that other children who might be staying in the park deserved the same considerations. One cannot reason with a drunk, after all. He should have stopped at that comment, but he went on to tell me that my golf cart was headed the wrong way down a one way road.
Exhibiting a huge amount of self control, I did not tell him to saddle up and get the hell out of my park. But .......... I am watching him. Closely. I have him in my cross hairs.
He Who thinks I am too confrontational about the speed limit was not very sympathetic to his wife upon the re-telling of the incident. He Who has been in cross hairs before and always claims I am talking in his deaf ear, but that is another story. I let him elaborate about how confrontational I am before I informed him that they were having a fish fry and I wondered what would become of the grease.
We just paid a sizable sum to have a big router on a truck come out to release a clog that consisted of some chunks of marble (I kid you not) and GREASE! Seems that when one is camping and they fry a turkey or fish, it is okay to pour it directly into the sewer. After all, it is no longer their problem. He could not get down there fast enough to inquire about the plan for the disposal of the grease.
Campers beware, the Nazi Bitch is on the prowl!
Big Mother is watching!