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Have You Seen My Car Keys?

The current state of the residents of NYC. Remember when it used to be a vibrant city of doers?

As I walked back and forth to the car rental agencies during my car swap (see yesterday's article), I figured out what everyone who dared come out to the street was doing.

Looking for their car keys. You know the drill. Head down. Feet splayed. Shoulders hunched. The compelling fact is that very few New Yorkers actually own cars. They take cabs, or the subway. If they do own a car they usually have a driver. Maybe the chauffeur is looking for the keys? That's it! Manhattan, and perhaps the boroughs, is filled with professional drivers who seem to have misplaced the fob that starts the Bentley. As y'all can imagine, I am NOT looking forward to my next visit unless Jeeves finds the keys to the Rolls. Or, the lunkheads who think it's a good idea to keep the small business owner locked in a closet somewhere taking PayPal orders, decide to put the plan into motion that will unravel this stupidity.

Back to Connecticut. Given the execrable condition of our rental house, I executed the following tasks that go a long way towards securing domestic bliss:

I cleaned and repaired the Shark vacuum.

Done a quick fix to the Nespresso maker, and will see if I need to make another go at a more complete repair job.

Cleaned and disinfected one set of shelves and am working on two others.

By the time we get out of here in June, the place will be habitable. And if the owner thinks I'm hiring their "cleaning" person at our expense at the conclusion of the rental . . . let's just say we already have.

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