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downhill neighbors' place is for sale
Thursday, July 9 2020
It was a seasonably hot, humid day, and today, for the first time this season, I heard the tinnitus-like call of a dog day cicada.
At around 5:00pm, I replaced the corroded and cracked old negative battery terminal connector on the Subaru. As I worked, I listened to an interview of Anthony Fauci on FiveThirtyEight.com. He admitted that the United States is not exactly doing a great job of controlling the coronavirus, meaning that when Donald Trump finds out about this interview, he will fly into a despotic rage, the kind of rage only authoritarians can feel.
Once I had the Subaru back together, I gave it a jump start off the Nissan Leaf and then took the dogs for a ride down to the Stewarts in Old Hurley to get some Stewarts-brand vegan mint chocolate cookie icecream and a bag of Fritos. On the way down, I noticed a for-sale sign at the end of the driveway of our downhill neighbors. Evidently the 90 year old man who had been living there since the 1960s (if not the 1950s) had either died or moved to an old folks' home. Gretchen had always thought the house would be handed down to one of his descendants, but evidently there are too many for that to be fair. Gretchen later looked up the property and saw that the whole thing was being sold (including eight acres and the cabin that Crazy Dave rents with his wife) for $425,000. This marked the first time since we moved here nearly 18 years ago that any house in our neighborhood (except for That 80s House, directly across the street) has gone through a change of ownership.
Back at the house, the Subaru battery hadn't yet charged enough to start the car. This had me feeling dubious about its battery, but after letting it idle for a couple hours, it could once more start the car.
Meanwhile Gretchen had arranged with Prestige Toyota to look at our dead Prius. A tow truck came this evening to take it away.
This evening Gretchen made a healthy soup featuring kale, white beans, and farro. We ate it out on the east deck while someone with a very large gun was monotonously shooting down at the bus turnaround. I would've megaphoned them from our house, but Gretchen was worried it would disturb the neighborhood. At the time, someone was mowing the grass at our downhill neighbors' house, the one that is for sale.
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