On the other hand it's not all hearts and flowers between Jim and me. For one thing Jim is downright disgusted with my poor person skills.
Yesterday over morning coffee I mentioned that I need a towel rack to mount in the camper trailer. I was making conversation, and it was out of my mouth before I had thought about it. If you say something like this within Jim's hearing, you could find yourself in the landfill thirty minutes later pawing through the garbage with him looking for a discarded towel rack. In my case yesterday morning it was almost as bad. Jim drug me to the Community Resource and Recreation Center in Sattler.
I have no idea why the Community Resource and Recreation Center in Sattler is called the Community Resource and Recreation Center, but I can surely describe it for you. Let's say your grandma dies while still occupying her house. Grandpa has been gone, oh, 15 years now. After you bury grandma, of course everybody is in a hurry to get her house listed and sold. So you get brother Ed and cousin Hurley and a couple of others over there to her place with their Dodge Ram pickups and load up all the worthless contents, all that crap, that has been sitting in grandma's house mildewing for twenty years.
Your first stop with the trucks is Goodwill, and you offload about a third of the stuff there, whatever they will accept. Your next stop is the Salvation Army, and you offload about a half of what's left there, whatever the Salvation Army will accept of what Goodwill declined. Then whatever the Salvation Army will not accept you haul on over to the Community Resource and Recreation Center in Sattler and drop it off. Now of course you could take that last batch to the dump, but the Community Resource and Recreation Center in Sattler is closer.
Jim and I walked into this large pole shed with corrugated steel sides. We were going to find a tremendously cheap towel rack. The place was totally staffed by volunteers that gave new meaning to the term “old.” At one end was this little shop area with three old guys puttering around ostensibly renovating toasters, hot plates, coffee makers, and other shit that had been dropped off. The idea is to make sure this stuff works and then put it out on the shelves to be sold for the benefit of various charities. One of these old boys in the shop section was obviously seriously demented. He sat at a table and just fondled various screws, fasteners, wire, and such to no discernible purpose whatsoever.
The rest of the pole shed was filled with shelf after shelf of the sorriest assed tangible personal property you have ever seen. When I stand in the middle of other people's junk like that, I cannot wait to get somewhere else and take a shower. But Jim was in heaven and wandered right off into it.
Pretty soon Jim yelled at me to join him. Sure enough, he had found the used towel rack section. Can you believe that? A bunch of fuckin' used towel racks! I could not believe it. He had picked one out that was absolutely disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. It was a circular plastic thing that was coated with faux bronze, a little of which—a very little of which--still adhered. If some future intelligent life were doing an archeological dig and discovered this towel rack in the stratum corresponding to our time, it would not reflect well upon us.
Jim pointed proudly to the sticker that said fifty cents. I asked Jim if those folks were seriously offering to pay me only fifty cents to take this towel rack off their hands. Jim did not think this was funny. I asked Jim why we could not just go to Lowe's and buy a nice towel rack for my camper trailer. He almost visibly staggered--as if I had poleaxed him.
After he recovered, Jim looked around a bit for used air mattresses, and then we left. We left because we had to drive clear the hell over to Startzville to the Dollar Store to pick up some dog food for Muffy. Jim had forgotten to pick up dog food when we were at the goddamned Dollar Store in Startzville on Tuesday looking for a cheap air mattress.