I’ve deleted dozens of Nigerian scam e-mails over the years, but occasionally read them through because the stories can be humorous (not to mention the writing).  The one that came last night though, was considerably darker.

I have confirmed that it’s a hoax, but it sure was strange to wake up to this message:

Good day,

I want you to read this message very carefully, and keep the secret with you till further notice, You have no need of knowing who i am, where am from,till i make out a space for us to  see,i have being paid $50,000.00 in advance to terminate you with some reasons listed to me by my employer,its one i believe you call a friend,i have followed you closely for one week and three days now and have seen that you are innocent of the accusation,Do not contact the police or F.B.I  or try to send a copy of this to them, because if you do i will know, and might be pushed to do what i have being paid to do,beside this is the first time i turned out to be a betrayer in my job.
Now listen,i will arrange for us to see face to face but before that i need the amount of $80,000.00 and you will have nothing to be afraid of.I will be coming to see you in your office or home determine where you wish we meet,do not set any camera to cover us or set up any tape to record our conversation,my employer is in my  control now,You will need to pay $20,000.00 to the account i will provide for you,before we will set our first meeting,after you have make the first advance payment to the account,i will give you the  tape that contains his request for me to terminate you, which will be enough evidence for you to take him to court(if you wish to),then the balance will be paid later.

You don’t need my phone contact for now till am assured you are ready to comply good.

Lucky You

Snicker.  Off to resume cleaning up the kitchen.

The marble tile has been set.

Tomorrow, the new stove will be installed.

The kitchen still looks like a war zone and everything is covered with a fine layer of marble dust; I still have to caulk around the tiles, apply a coat of wax or sealer (leaning toward wax, on the advice of a friend with more style than myself), stain and install the trim, but the heavy work is done.

It was harder than I expected, but also more fun.  However, I’m tired and sore, with a full schedule tomorrow and the day after.

Still having no stove and feeling guilty about letting the kids forage for two nights in a row, I took the youngest two out to dinner.  We ran into AT and the boys at the Time Out Deli, testing out a new ride.  This was my first time in the deli since they changed ownership, and it’s outstanding.  Really good stuff.

I’m looking forward to actually cooking tomorrow, though.

This week was “back to the real world week,” when the kids went back to school, I went back to work, and we started cleaning up the grand mess left over from the holidays.  Alpha’s still home, but other than that, we’ve been trying to be normal again.

After the Observer reported that two people — neither of them me — had picked up petitions for the two seats up for election in the school board race, I’ve been peppered with questions about whether I’m running again.

For the record, YES.   Actually, I picked up my petition today, and am on the second page of signatures.

*  *  *

After stopping by the election commission, I stayed and watched an interesting court case today.  I’ve never had much exposure to the legal system, and it’s something that every citizen ought to observe once in a while.

Today’s issue was not about life, death, or ensuring safety on the streets; it was a criminal contempt-of-court case against attorney Victoria Bowling, who went too far in challenging Judge April Meldrum in court.  The outcome was fair, I think; she was fined $1, and the fine was suspended — but the criminal conviction remains as a grim warning that the judge on the bench has the last word.

When he or she says “that’s enough,” it darn well better be the end.

Sure, there are bad judges.  Sometimes judges are wrong.  But there is a process for appeal, and that is the way our system works.

One thing I learned today is that legal folks say “the court” to refer to the person sitting on the bench; “contempt of court” is doing or saying anything in direct defiance of that person.  “If it please the court” means “if it pleases the judge.”

I can do without spending much time around attorneys or courtrooms, but it’s an education that every citizen should have.

*  *  *

Back to the real world, indeed.  This week, I repaired the ductwork, then the garbage disposal, then the dishwasher.  The cat did in the ductwork, but someone — either my kids or my brother-in-law — put the better part of a full bowl of wild rice in the dishwasher (oh, gross was that a mess to clean out).  I don’t know what they put down the disposal, but I fished out several pieces of mangled gray plastic.

And, they’ve been cramming truckloads of clothes in my washing machine again.  I can tell, because the water doesn’t drain completely when it’s been overstuffed.  That didn’t require any repair, but it was troublesome.

Lastly, Hubby fried his laptop Wednesday evening.  It wouldn’t charge (or run) off the AC adapter.  Since both of our laptops use the same 65 watt AC adapter, I let him charge his computer on mine overnight, thinking I could leave mine plugged in most of Thursday.  It charged just fine… but killed my adapter in the process.  Fortunately, I had a spare that would run the machine (but not charge the battery) until Dell could FedEx me a new one, which arrived today.

Thank goodness for the idiot-proof warranty.  For that matter, thank goodness for the idiot-proof warranty on Hubby’s machine; they’re sending out a technician to replace the motherboard (and AC adapter, and the plastic casing around the screen, and some other piddling plastic part that broke off).

Now, the kids have to tolerate him infringing on their desktop in the kitchen for a few days.

*  *  *

My new stove arrives Tuesday morning.  I can’t wait.

Oak Ridge suffered another community loss today, with the passing of veterinarian Arthur H. (“Mickey”) McArthur.

He’s doctored all my animals since I was a child — caring for Brownie, a found Shepherd/Collie mix, from when I was about seven until she died when I was in college.

Several years ago, I came upon a squirrel on Nebraska Avenue that had been hit by a car and was dragging itself using only its front paws toward the curb; I picked it up in a towel I had in the car, and took it to Mickey, who fed and watered it until it recovered, then turned it loose again. He could tell that its spine wasn’t broken, and just allowed nature to take its course while providing shelter and sustenance.

When my old chocolate lab, Dexter, was hit by a car and suffered a dislocated hip, the vet-on-call gave the grim prognosis that amputation was necessary (or we would have to put him down). I waited for Mickey to get a second opinion — his opinion in particular — and he manually relocated the hip and put the leg in a sling (which lasted about two days). Dexter remained an able-bodied, four-legged dog for the rest of his life.

He knew that I am both a cat person and a dog person; he knew that I take in strays, feed wild squirrels, and generally consider my animals part of the family.

He was a trusted friend, and I will miss him.

I love animals, and am not categorized as a “cat person” or a “dog person” — I enjoy both, though I am a “big dog person” and not at all fond of the little yappers that people carry into stores in oversized purses. Still, to each her own.

My cat moved into this house before I did, as there was a significant mouse problem. The cat food went mostly untouched for a month or so, the cat gained weight and muscle, and the mice just disappeared — no poison or traps required.

Today though, I’m wondering if I wouldn’t rather have mice.

All winter it’s seemed like the house was much colder than usual, though I attributed that for a time to keeping the thermostat turned lower than I have in the past. Still, it didn’t seem like the utility bills were as much lower as I would have expected for the discomfort. Next, I thought it was probably because a lot of the insulation in the crawl space has fallen down, and that’s probably part of the problem. Especially in the kitchen (only half of the house has a crawl space; the rest is a basement).

It seemed suspicious though, when I went to the basement for firewood and realized it’s warmer down there (underground — typically the same temp year-round) than upstairs. I went around to all the vent connections in the basement and repaired one that was loose, but the problem persisted.

Yesterday, Hubby caught the youngest cat (a young adult, but still kitten-sized, as she was the runt of an unwanted litter) crawling out of one of the heating vents. This morning, Alpha saw her do it again. Exasperated with the energy loss (and fearful of the cat doing something stinky in the ductwork) I set about looking for the hole, and found it.

She — or they — had torn a hole about two feet across and nine inches wide, along the top of the main duct from the furnace.

So, as the child of an engineer, the wife, sister, sister-in-law, niece and cousin of engineers, I grabbed the duct tape. I can fix this. For the record, we’re more likely to have duct tape in the house than bread, milk or paper towels — so that isn’t a problem. The fact that I’ve used duct tape for 1,001 things except it’s intended purpose was not a deterrent.

I also happen to know that there’s a big box of duct material in the basement, from a long-forgotten project that Hubby intended to complete about 15 years ago… at this point, I don’t think he’d miss a couple of small pieces. Armed with a ladder, duct tape, duct material and my trusty pocketknife, I patched the massive hole (as the HVAC system blew dust and fiberglass all over me).

It’s not pretty, but it’s sealed.  Next, I need to cut a couple of pieces of plywood (yes, we have some of that too) to block off the route the kitties use to get from the top of the stairs to the top of the ductwork… otherwise, the little monster will just tear another hole in it.

I’m not a big fan of having cats de-clawed, but have to wonder if it might be a necessity with this one.  One of the others has a habit of kneading his paws on Hubby while he’s sleeping — sometimes with claws — so I’ve trained that one to sit still for a “manicure” so I can trim his claws to a short, painless length.

Not sure if our ductwork culprit (her name is Creamsicle, but we call her “Itty-bitty” more than anything else) will sit still for that.

Most people start off January with self-improvement; I’m taking on “home improvement.”