Drat, the Diver is Back in the Water

I have no right to complain. It is his life. It is his chosen career. But I complain anyway. My direct line to prayer central is back in full force.  The biggest drat is that he is actually fairly near where I live, but I am leaving soon.  That is silly to say, I know, because even if he was across the street from me, we could not hang out together. His medium is ocean water, mine is land.  But the geographic closeness is very nice just the same.

AND, I got to chat with him while he was in Singapore. Not that it was all that easy. My cell phone provider just sent me a text message in the middle of the night last night. Hoping that we all survived the disruption of service for the past week due to upgrades in the system. In other parts of the world, the provider would warn one of this disruption before it occurred.  Not here.  We find out after the fact. Well, actually we figure it out during the problem, we just don't know what the reason is this time.

The timing of this assignment might just be a good one. Maybe my water boy just might be with someone he loves over the Christmas season this year.  Maybe they could meet at my house and have a mini vacation here.

The planning and plotting with friends for a time and location to visit is like setting the royal tour.I better quit feeling like I am the centre of the universe. I might just discover that no one has time to put their lives on hold just to get a glimpse of moi.  Just the same, I hope to catch up with as many as I can, and still be the Nana in residence. For myself, the countdown continues.

I will be in Bangkok at this time in 340 hours.

Now I have to run out and figure out how to tell the weed trimmer guy to actually trim the grasslike product that is growing amok amid my outer garden. He, like me, stands at the edge of the garden, and reaches as far in as he can from that spot.  Not a good way to trim. It looks nasty. And I am going to be the one who tells him so.  I only have scissors, so you can imagine what a dog's breakfast I have created. He gets paid to trim. And trim he will, if I have any say in the matter.

I did it!  I did not let him leave my garden until he had trimmed the stuff properly. Now all I have to do is pluck the stones, sticks, and bits that have impaled my face and appendages that were assaulted by his trimming machine. But I won!