With the beep from the spa now reaching four days in not seeing the futility of calling out for someone, I'm thinking of naming it. It's become a household companion, though it's far quieter from inside the house. But it's ever-present, just like Tigger and Kitty.
"Annoying Fucking Noise" doesn't work because it doesn't annoy me as much as it did Mom when she was near the patio door and heard it for a few seconds.
Nothing related to the sound. Not "Beepy" or "Beepie," not "Incessant-Lee" (purposely written that way), not "Relentless." I'm thinking of "Jimson" (for this, not related to the weed; I just like the name) or, well, I don't know. Something else might come to mind later, but that's all I have right now.
I don't know how the spa operates when it's off. The jets obviously aren't running. They're clogged. But I think they actually try to work at various intervals during the day. It's got to be the leaves, though. The cold weather last year did not cause the spa to bubble up enough to have a layer of meringue. When I was out on the patio with the dogs this afternoon, that's what it looked like, complete with fluffy peaks.
It is a nice diversion from the brown hills struggling to be green, and the mountains on either side of the freeway. I think it actually is one of the most interesting sights in my six and 1/4 years here. Better than the same SUVs from Stevenson Ranch with the same soccer moms. Better than the same gaggle of bothersome, nosy seniors gathering on the same street corner every day with their dogs. I need to disturb them one day by emphatically waving at them when I leave the complex for some errand. I can't forget that before we move.
No comments:
Post a Comment