899 Tiring Day

Friday, September 29, 2006

[Later edit: Changed reference to Ex#1 to Ex#2. Oops. It's not like I really mix them up....]

After stopping in to visit the mini-van, I headed for Poughkeepsie (pronounced p'KIP-see, for you outlanders. (Valatie, up the road, is pronounced val-LAY-sha. We gots us some weird names 'round here)), to deliver some more Pilot Logs. Naturally, I had to make three trips up and down each road to find the businesses. No numbers. And in one case, no sign.

Then I headed for New Paltz, where I had to deliver to an insurance business in a big old Victorian house. There was a number, and a big sign --- but there were two doors on the front porch, a sidewalk around the side to another door, and a fourth door at the back where there was a parking lot (I had parked on the street). No sign that said "office", or "use this door". I rang all four doorbells in turn, got no response, and ended up leaving the Logs on the porch in front of the most likely-looking door. Of ninety-some delivered, that's the first batch I didn't actually hand to a person. But there was no way I was going to make another trip to New Paltz.

Then to Tivoli. I rarely get to Tivoli, and when I do, it's just to pass by on Route 32. So today I had the map, and was looking for the back/side street to deliver my Logs to a bus company.

A story: In 1969, when I was dating Ex#2, one of his best friends, Frank, lived back in on a side street in Tivoli. I had been to Frank's house once with Ex#2, but hadn't paid any attention to where it was. Frank's house was a big 2 1/2 story farmhouse. They had a bit of land, with a barn and several sheds. They kept some ponies, and Frank's collection of old Subarus.

Frank's wife decided she wanted a large window in the dining room, instead of the existing blank wall. Frank promised her he'd do it. A few years passed, and Frank hadn't got around to it. Nagging didn't work. One day, the wife decided she'd about had it. She took a chain saw and cut a huge hole in the wall. No supports, no braces, no nothing. Just a big hole through the plaster, studs, and siding. When Frank got home from work that evening, he was greeted by a huge hole in the wall. Breeze blowing in. Within a week, the wife had her window.

My visit was the day after she had cut the hole. (Frank had to show it off.) We moved to St. Louis shortly after, and I'd never seen the new window.

So, I'm driving down this street, looking for the bus company, and remembering the story of Frank's wife and the chain saw, and wondering where the house might be. I'm thinking there had to be enough space for the out buildings, and the houses are too close together on this street ... and wham! There were the barn and sheds! The very ones. I'd have expected them to have been torn down by now. As I passed, I glanced in the side mirror, and sure enough, there was a huge window in the house, right where the hole had been. Amazing. I found a needle in a haystack!

Anyway, I was so excited about that, that I passed right by a big fenced-in yard full of big yellow school buses without even noticing. And then got lost. Took me a long time to find that bus company.

Then to the Kingston Wal-Mart to buy another house telephone. (They've all decided to die at once.) Then back to the village to an auction preview, then home. I got home about 7:30ish, and for some reason I was very tired. About 65 miles today, and 5.0 hours for the museum.

The state legislature (I think it's them, anyway) is looking at allowing a deduction on taxes for volunteer hours, similar to the deduction for volunteer miles. That would be nice, and I'm sure it would encourage volunteerism. The federal government should look into it.