I was setting off for my music lesson but the lady across the courtyard motioned me to come over with an expression on her face as if she was holding in something she didn't want to cover. The other know it all in my building had been regaling her with stuff for twenty minutes, I had sighted three suspicious school children down by the cars earlier in the day, so I braced myself for something crazy. It was. She and her guy were interested in buying my parents' house. I gave them a number. I recall back in the 90's when my tax shelter was going strong I was lectured by my representative and others about putting the nest egg into a house. I've also heard bits and pieces about me buying the aforementioned one, this at a time when the income it could generate for my Mom in assisted living isn't what it could have been. Or do I know the tax and other complications? So head-in-sand is not buying, at least right now.

My blog mentor made a recent post about technology and retro living, followed by examples in the well-trod reply section. Cars came up; my quarter century old Jetta has traveled enough to investigate odd radio transmissions picked up by satellites but runs month after month between repairs. Coming out of the music lesson, it started running sluggish. Darn, in to the repair shop on a Thursday and thus we're looking at the weekend.

I got a call from the mechanic a while ago, something about having difficulty starting the car, the clutch, being swamped----he wanted extra time. Friday evening is fine, I said. No, this goes beyond. Is this---time for the old heap? Bad timing period? I'm retired, my Friday band is on rehearsal hiatus for a while, but what the hey: life catches you regardless.

June, yes, but cirrus and blue and not too warm. Ha, I know better, even if not experiencing better.