Bermuda Shorts, Inventory Reduction, & Growling in the Dark

I just had an interesting conversation with my bride Management. Frankly I was shocked. As you already know I believe Management is perfect in every way. I also believe a man should never question the judgment of a woman whose biggest decision in life was choosing to marry him. Still it is somewhat of a shock to discover she has some unreasonable expectations.

She had been working on a project and when it was finished she  said, “Well, that didn’t turn out like I expected.” Why would anyone ever expect a project to turn out like they expected? Who even expects to finish a project anyway? For that matter, why would you ever expect a project to turn out in any specific way? That is one of the appeals of projects. They evolve, morph and develop and the way they turn out is the way they are.

Regarding Management’s superiority I noticed a few weeks ago an odd sound coming from her side of the bed. It was a sort of a faint growl that was sort of rhythmic. I would have said it sounded somewhat like snoring but I learned long ago women never snore. Not that I have any experience listening to women snoring or actually not snoring (since women do not snore) but had I been less informed I might have made that assumption, which, I might add, would have automatically been wrong.

The odd sound only happens when Management is there and only happens when she is asleep. Fortunately for me I discovered a possible solution. It seems our dog, who is quite attached to Management, sleeps under our window and only takes her sentry post when Management comes to bed. Obviously the dog doesn’t care if some monster comes in the window and eats me but she protects Management. I intend to blame the snoring on the dog.

I’ve had a couple of bad weeks. My inventory of cars and trucks that I keep attractively sprinkled about the landscape has been severely depleted. I’ve even moved a few I was keeping that were decorating other people’s landscapes. I’m down to an unacceptable vehicular number. Fewer than a dozen vehicles (or a dozen and a half) and I start wondering if I am going to have enough projects and enough reserve transportation. Oddly, Management and everyone else who had the daily privilege of looking at my collection seems pleased they are gone.

Then to make matters worse a carpenter working on our son’s house wanted to trade for one of my trucks, another guy wanted to buy one and now someone wants to trade me a boat for another one. Boats, for the record, don’t count as transportation or vehicles although they do fine sprinkled about the landscape for decoration.

On the positive side, if I decide to trade for the boat it is big enough to count as transportation providing I can transport it to an ocean. I’ve lived in houses smaller than it. The only issue is I don’t have the time, money or interest in an extended boat trip although I hear there are dozens of great Caribbean Islands worth visiting.

The problem with the Caribbean is that all of the ads show lots of young women in skimpy bathing suits and lots of tanned folks drinking. The women are off-limits, not to mention I already have the only one I want. I’m not interested in drinking, especially those silly fruity drinks with little umbrellas in them. I learned long ago the only thing I can do better after drinking than before is make an ass of myself and I can do that without any help.

Another issue is a wrong turn and I might end up in Cuba which isn’t a good place for a capitalist. Then there is that Bermuda Triangle. I’m not really worried about “disappearing without a trace” but any place that created those silly Bermuda shorts just can’t be a good place to be.

I guess my only option is to pick up a half dozen or so cars and trucks and restock.