Well you don't close until 9. Where's the problem?

:stickpoke


I kid.

I feel like my life is the Wonderful One-Hoss Shay.

The Refrigerator is not so cold any longer...

Oliver Wendell Holmes
Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay,
That was built in such a logical way
It ran a hundred years to a day,
And then of a sudden it — ah, but stay,
I’ll tell you what happened without delay,
Scaring the parson into fits,
Frightening people out of their wits, –
Have you ever heard of that, I say?

Seventeen hundred and fifty-five.
Georgius Secundus was then alive, –
Snuffy old drone from the German hive.
That was the year when Lisbon-town
Saw the earth open and gulp her down,
And Braddock’s army was done so brown,
Left without a scalp to its crown.
It was on that terrible Earthquake-day
That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay.

Now in building of shaises, I tell you what,
There is always a weakest spot, –
In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill,
In pannel or crossbar, or floor, or sill,
In screw, bolt, throughbrace, — lurking still,
Find it somewhere you must and will, –
Above or below, or within or without, –
And that’s the reason, beyond a doubt,
That a chaise breaks down, but doesn’t wear out.

But the Deacon swore (as deacons do,
With an "I dew vum," or an "I tell yeou")
He would build one shay to beat the taown
‘n’ the keounty ‘n’ all the kentry raoun’;
It should be so built that it couldn’ break daown:
"Fer," said the Deacon, "’t's mighty plain
Thut the weakes’ place mus’ stan’ the strain;
‘n’ the way t’ fix it, uz I maintain, is only jest
‘T’ make that place uz strong uz the rest."

So the Deacon inquired of the village folk
Where he could find the strongest oak,
That couldn’t be split nor bent nor broke, –
That was for spokes and floor and sills;
He sent for lancewood to make the thills;
The crossbars were ash, from the the straightest trees
The pannels of whitewood, that cuts like cheese,
But lasts like iron for things like these;

The hubs of logs from the "Settler’s ellum," –
Last of its timber, — they couldn’t sell ‘em,
Never no axe had seen their chips,
And the wedges flew from between their lips,
Their blunt ends frizzled like celery-tips;
Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw,
Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too,
Steel of the finest, bright and blue;
Throughbrace bison-skin, thick and wide;
Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide
Found in the pit when the tanner died.
That was the way he "put her through,"
"There!" said the Deacon, "naow she’ll dew!"

Do! I tell you, I rather guess
She was a wonder, and nothing less!
Colts grew horses, beards turned gray,
Deacon and deaconess dropped away,
Children and grandchildren — where were they?
But there stood the stout old one-hoss shay
As fresh as on Lisbon-earthquake-day!

EIGHTEEN HUNDRED; — it came and found
The Deacon’s masterpiece strong and sound.
Eighteen hindred increased by ten; –
"Hahnsum kerridge" they called it then.
Eighteen hundred and twenty came; –
Running as usual; much the same.
Thirty and forty at last arive,
And then come fifty and FIFTY-FIVE.

Little of of all we value here
Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year
Without both feeling and looking queer.
In fact, there’s nothing that keeps its youth,
So far as I know, but a tree and truth.
(This is a moral that runs at large;
Take it. — You’re welcome. — No extra charge.)

FIRST OF NOVEMBER, — the Earthquake-day, –
There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay,
A general flavor of mild decay,
But nothing local, as one may say.
There couldn’t be, — for the Deacon’s art
Had made it so like in every part
That there wasn’t a chance for one to start.
For the wheels were just as strong as the thills
And the floor was just as strong as the sills,
And the panels just as strong as the floor,
And the whippletree neither less or more,
And the back-crossbar as strong as the fore,
And the spring and axle and hub encore.
And yet, as a whole, it is past a doubt
In another hour it will be worn out!

First of November, fifty-five!
This morning the parson takes a drive.
Now, small boys get out of the way!
Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay,
Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay.
"Huddup!" said the parson. — Off went they.

The parson was working his Sunday’s text, –
Had got to fifthly, and stopped perplexed
At what the — Moses — was coming next.
All at once the horse stood still,
Close by the meet’n'-house on the hill.
First a shiver, and then a thrill,
Then something decidedly like a spill, –
And the parson was sitting upon a rock,
At half past nine by the meet’n'-house clock, –
Just the hour of the earthquake shock!

What do you think the parson found,
When he got up and stared around?
The poor old chaise in a heap or mound,
As if it had been to the mill and ground!
You see, of course, if you’re not a dunce,
How it went to pieces all at once, –
All at once, and nothing first, –
Just as bubbles do when they burst.

End of the wonderful one-hoss shay.
Logic is logic. That’s all I say.

In my parents' day, school kids had to memorize long poems,
and the deacon's shay was one my Mom knew by heart.
In reading through, some of the lines were familiar to me.

But somehow it seems there were a some other lines...
something about "...a hundred years to the day...neary a man is still alive..."

Oh well, it's a very nice post... and they don't make shays like that anymore.

I got last minute tickets to the cowboys game..... Half way there there is an accident on the schuylkill expressway. I deal with this god damn s*** every morning on my way to work. the guy that has my tickets will be going inside at 8 pm. I'm sure he will come out and give me my ticket if I am late but this is really pissing me off.



I just cleared the accident! yahoo...

The house I rent, the wonderful, 4 bedroom, two story, hot tub upstairs, in the right school district, so close to work and the gym and my son's house, the house I'd planned to live in for the next 4 years, yeah that house...is being put on the market by the owner as a short sale. :thepain:

So now I have to find another house. With at least 3 bedrooms and a den/office and two car garage, close to work, in an A or B graded school district. In my price range. That takes pets. That isn't in foreclosure. :mad:

And I get to deal with a parade of potential buyers and strangers tramping through my house and yard and poking their noses into my stuff and dealing with a listing agent who didn't even bother to read both sentences of the email I sent her, including the one that said I am at work, please call me at on my cell after 6:00. I know she didn't read both sentences because she called me 2 minutes after I sent the email. At work. :mad2:

I haven't even hung my pictures from the last move a year ago. So now I have to pack up a 4 bedroom house YET AGAIN. :scream:

<mumble, grumble, moan, grit, grind, snarl, whine>

That sucks. You only signed a 1 year lease? Or does the lease say they can kick you out any time?

Moving sucks. Sorry Stormie. :(

It was a one year lease - standard residential lease. Expires the end of November, which means it's month-to-month after that. We each can give 30 days notice at that point.

I made it clear to the landlord when we moved in that we planned to stay put for 5 years, until our youngest was finished with elementary school. At that point, my oldest two would be out and our financial plan called for us to buy a 2 bedroom condo to hold us through until retirement.

Gotta redo the whole plan now, dammit. Plus we're planning a vacation to the Smoky's in 2 weeks, plus Christmas next month, so coming up with moving-to-a-new-house money will be a big strain unless we dip into savings.

That's strange, they must be desperate for the money. Usually an owner would be thrilled with a steady renter who wasn't tearing the place up, they would just jack the rent up if they weren't making ends meet.

I always want to be somewhere else, but I hate moving so much that I've remained here (so far). My dream is to just throw some clothes in the truck and a few of my favorite books - along with the cats, of course - and just drive off in the middle of the night, never to return.

Good luck, Stormie. Your current situation sucks. Oh, and happy holidays. The people who own the house are jerks!

Maybe the people who own the house desperately need the money from the sale.

Not making less of the situation Stormie is in, and it'd piss me off too, but when it all comes down to it, the owner does have the right to sell if there's no lease obligation.

Maybe it wont sell too quickly Stormie, or maybe you'll find somewhere even better. Either way, I hope you come up trumps. xx

For what it's worth, Stormie--it's perhaps unethical, but you do have the ability to influence whether the owner finds a buyer. We walked through two houses that had a current renter who didn't want to move out, and both of them chose to be right there and in the way the whole time. One actually went to the bathroom with the door open while we were there. Though I'm not sure his behavior was necessarily planned, I think he may have just been a genuinely horrible person.

Lots of really unscrupulous things happen with rental properties.
The landlord may be collecting rent, but not making mortage payments.
The landlord may not be disclosing to prospective tenants the property status.

If looky-lu's are a problem, the lease should identify the tenants rights.
a few such could be:
minimum of 24 hour notice to tenant
tenant's right to refuse entry ("Oh, it's not convenient right now")
tenant's right to set date/time of inspection

After end of lease period:
tenant may be able to renegotiate lease
tenant gets new 30-day rental agreement, or
tenant must get 30-day notice to vacate

last resort: tenant purchase of the property

Stormie, can you buy the house?

Notice to all consumers: when you do this, we hate you.