Sometimes it gets a bit depressing with folks continually posting links to or obituaries for every celebrity that dies. It's tough enough being at an age at which which folks familiar to one's youth are regularly dying.
I agree Carl. My mortality seems close enough without daily and weekly reminders of it. Unless there is something particularly special about someone who passes (than just being some Hollyweird or other celebrity), I'd rather not hear about it.
On a related matter (and my typical thread drift), I am having my basement bathroom shower stall (and a few other parts) rebuilt. I poked a hole in the drain trap below the floor by accident 10 years ago, and the plumbing and tile has been drying out and falling off for years, so the shower had become a storage place for rain gear and rubber boots and other crummy stuff.
A mid 70s retired ceramic tile man who rides an ST and a Ducati neighbor of mine said he'd come out of retirement to help me out for reasonable money because he gets bored. A couple days in, he called in a retired (late 60s) carpenter friend of his in to help (at my expense, and without asking me), but this turns out to be a good deal because the tile man isn't much of a carpenter.
These guys make a pretty good team matching up carpentry and tile knowledge to arrive at sound decisions and work. Except that the shower stall (and whole bathroom) is so small, there's a fair amount of grumbling about the close quarters (Please get your ass out of my face Bob. It's the only ass you've seen in a long time Jim.
) I act as gofer and helper and supply coffee, and mostly stay out of their way, but am learning some things as an entirely unskilled tile man or carpenter.
And unlike your average paid for professional work, there is no hurry or production mentality going on here. Seemingly half the day is spent in conversation about the work or days gone by, but progress is steady and all done perfectly (not at an hourly rate).
Jack hammering out the shower (basement) floor was exciting, and yanking out the ancient and corroded cast iron drain reminded me of TV shows about archaeology. The two young plumbers to rebuild the drain and wall plumbing were all business, fast and got paid full price (plus tip).
Then yesterday, my tile man and carpenter told me we were going to need a good drywall man (for three small but important jobs), as this is apparently some special art form beyond the skills of regular men. And wouldn't you know it, the carpenter has a long time buddy drywall man who is in his 70s and retired, who would not usually be interested in more work, but will do a favor for his friend, so we are in luck (again) (for cash).
Now ordinarily I would happily forgo all this stress and expense as my upstairs bathroom was all I really needed, but I am happy to get good work done for reasonable by the good old boy team, with the added benefit that I am being engaged in all this while I am going through the misery of quitting tobacco (day 12 and not really getting any easier, though my shortness of breath panic attacks have stopped).
And when this job is done, my tile man will vinyl tile the little bathroom floor for reasonable, and my new carpenter buddy will build me new doors for my two 10 x12 sheds as the bottoms have long ago rotted off from water damage, and my repair with vinyl floor mats, though effective, is a bit of an embarrassment.
My house has kind of turned into a geriatric day care center for old farts. But no obituaries are happening here (so far).
