No, it’s not what you think. Funny how “coming out of the closet” took on a certain meaning in the last say, fifty years?
Anyway, I had a thought or two yesterday and even on Tuesday, but I’m of the opinion that there shouldn’t be too much thinking involved. A feller could get hurt.
It was a fairly typical Wednesday with the morning meet up with the breakfast group. (Tuesday was a blur. No idea) Seems most of the conversation centred around maladies of various kinds. I’m not about to offer any details. It’s almost as if we should have one of those medical-type dictionaries close at hand? Or at least one that has a list of all the drugs.
Speaking of which, I actually have such a critter. Mind you, it was published in 1977.
Jeepers! That means I’ve been hanging onto some books for that long? Holy Moly.
I might just sift through it. Of course, we’ve had some new drugs in the last 35 years, so maybe it should have gone out with this mornings recycling?
Good bedtime reading. Yes sir.
Then Travelling Companion and I had a “date” at lunchtime. There was no actual eating involved, she simply had been planning on dealing with her Health Card. There was a letter, and basically the requirement to get the “new and improved” health card with a picture ID. So I figured I’d get mine done as well, since we’d both be at the “Service Ontario” outlet. Took a little longer than I had hoped, since on my end of things, I had to fill out the form. And yes, I made sure to fill out the organ donor form as well, but that’s a whole other story.
The cost for these two new cards that will be coming in the mail in “six to eight weeks”?
Nothing. Zero. Zip. Nada. And no, it’s not really *free*. (Nothing is, c’mon.) We pay in other ways.
My Health Card is also something that I’ve had since the early seventies. It’s like a person’s Social Insurance Card (“Social Security for you Yanks). You get it, and you keep it. Well, unless you move to another Province, then you switch to that province’s plan. The Feds mandate and set out the guidelines for Health Care in Canada, but it’s up to the individual provinces to manage their own plans more or less as they see fit. And that’s as much detail as I’m willing to bore you with.
Actually, I’m referring to the little painting project that I’ve been having fun with over the last couple of days.
It’s getting pretty damned white in there. That’s all primer. And the only reason I’m sitting here instead of painting is, I’m just taking a break. It’s just a tad tedious.
It started out as this:
It’s that green that I have to cover.
And now you’re thinking, “OK, what’s with the big freakin’ hole there, Bob?”
Well, I’m glad you asked.
See, once upon a time, I installed central vac throughout the house. Of course, it’s a split level, so that makes it fun. And you can see here from looking down that shaft, where the pipe comes up from the basement.
This space used to be the back of a very narrow pantry in the kitchen. The metal armour cable you see there goes to the double ovens.
Anyway, one fine day I was vacuuming up something I shouldn’t have, and realised within fairly short order that I had a blockage.
I know we were talking about medical issues a minute ago, but that’s not what I mean.
The thing was, I had no way to get at that one section of pipe. Dang.
So I had to do some surgery on the wall at the back of the closet.
Now, in the event that I ever need to get in there again, there was no point patching the sheetrock and making it look all pretty again, so I installed a little built-in cabinet.
It houses a bunch of extra cr*p, like spare bike keys, locks, etc.
I don’t need to take out the whole thing to get at the pipe back there, but I removed it to paint.
Well OK, then try this on for size.
Inside said closet, there’s a ‘jack’ sticking out of the trim.
There it is.
I’ve been meaning to get rid of the thing from time to time as the years have rolled by, but I’d usually just leave it alone and move on.
I figured the time had come.
There was just one little snag.
So I put it pack in, and figured I’d ask T.C. if she could remember just what the heck this jack was all about. She had no clue.
Now, for those of you who are a bit late to the party, we bought this house from the estate of my late Father-in-law. T.C.’s Dad. He was a tinkerer. And that’s all I’ll say.
Not sure just exactly what the hell he would have been tinkering with in this particular case. AND I’m not willing to remove that trim there to find out where that wire goes. AND I have a *thing* about just cutting wires. So I put it back. It’s not exactly in the way or anything.
Is there a stereo somewhere I don’t know about?? Actually, I went to take a closer look. It’s a mono jack. Not even stereo. C’mon!
Some other dimension? A hidden room? I’ll start looking for that secret door.
Well, my coffee cup’s empty. Best get back at it.
Hasta Lasagne, don’t get any on ya.
Thanks for stopping by.