I’ve recently rediscovered Unsolved Mysteries. Netflix rebooted the classic series a few years ago. I was never more than a casual fan of the original – RIP, Robert Stack – but I’ve gotten sucked into these new-to-me episodes.
I’ve always gravitated more toward Dateline NBC, though – and it’s got nothing to do with Keith Morrison. (Ha. I can’t even say that with a straight face. It’s got a lot to do with Keith Morrison. But I digress.)
The problem is, I’m a completist. I like things wrapped up in a tidy little bow. After investing two hours into Dateline NBC, I’m going to be rewarded with a whodunnit at the end, which is extremely satisfying. I was explaining this to Tara a few nights ago.
“I’m really digging Unsolved Mysteries,” I told her. “But watching it is kind of maddening. Every episode leaves me hanging!”
“You prefer your mysteries solved, is what you’re saying?” she clarified.
“Exactly!”
“Babe, I think you’re missing the whole point of the series…”
OK, fine. I get that, like Lieutenant Dan, I don’t have a leg to stand on. Nobody’s trying to pull a fast one on me or pretend the show is anything other than what the name implies. There’s total truth in advertising. It isn’t called Solved Mysteries, so I don’t know why I feel so hollow and empty inside after watching it.
I can’t help that I want to know whether Rey Rivera jumped from or was pushed off a hotel roof in Baltimore, or who the mystery woman found dead on a hotel bed in Oslo was, or why former White House aide Jack Wheeler ended up in a Delaware landfill. Instead, I’m left to ponder the imponderable, and that drives me batty.
But not batty enough to stop watching, apparently.
Last week, when I wondered in a blog post whether I’d gone overboard with Halloween decorations (the consensus was no, so thank you for that), a couple of you suggested, after viewing the photos, that I paint the flamingos orange. Ahh, but there’s no need for that. Because, just out of frame in one of the photos…
…you can clearly see I’ve covered all my bases.
Do you really think me, of all people, would let a prime flamingo opportunity slip by? Perish the thought.
Last weekend, with a Freeze Warning issued, Tara made the difficult decision to pluck every last tomato, pepper, cucumber, and tomatillo from their raised beds and bring them indoors to ripen, thus officially ending gardening season. This proved to be a smart move, as the temperature dipped down to 30° Tuesday morning. She’s got mixed feelings about that, as I’m sure all those with green thumbs do following the first freeze of the season, but I for one am relieved. I like the sound of “no more outdoor chores for six months.”
Other than raking, and mowing, and shoveling snow, and…hey, wait a minute!!
With the colder weather, it was time to break down and switch on the heat. After all, Tara’s cousin is visiting from Nevada, and we couldn’t very well expect him to be comfortable inside an icebox. But when I switched the Nest from A/C to Heat on Wednesday afternoon, were we greeted with a welcome blast of comforting heat?
No, we were not.
We were actually greeted with nothing, nada, aka, not a damn thing. The same thing happened almost exactly one year ago. Talk about déjà vu.
The culprit, we learned the next day, was a dead blower motor. Which was an easy enough fix, but the bigger issue is that our mechanical systems are 30 years old. We knew when we bought the place we’d be on the hook for a new furnace and A/C unit sooner rather than later. Given that we’ve had issues two years in a row, and a new blower motor is like putting a band-aid on a bullet wound, we’ve decided to bite the bullet (sorry for multiple firearm analogies in the same sentence) and invest in a new furnace and central A/C system. This is going to cost a pretty penny – 860,000 pretty pennies, if you want to get technical – but it’s not like we have much of a choice. Heat and air-conditioning aren’t exactly luxuries, and you can’t put a price tag on comfort.
Yay to spending a lot of money.
The irony of it all is, we’re warming up into the 70s for four or five days starting this weekend, so we probably won’t even be running the heat for awhile. At least it’s pretty outside, as evidenced by a recent lunchtime stroll through the UW-Madison Arboretum.
Although really, we barely have to leave the driveway to be treated to some nice fall foliage.
I’m diggin’ that curb appeal, baby!
Mark My Words 
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