No Bingo for Me

Yesterday, I wandered over to Nacho Daddy to play bingo for the Colina Spay and Neuter Clinic because I thought it would be quiet, and I needed to see if my voice would still function after not seeing humans again for a couple of days. Did I ONCE get a chance to yell “Bingo!”? Of course not. That’s two bingo days, and I have won nothing. It’s highly unusual, and I don’t like to lose. I have heard that some people actually don’t mind losing, but it rankles me. Bingo is NOT Scrabble, that’s for sure, and it requires only a modicum of hand-eye coordination to play. And, we have not met for Scrabble for two weeks; we will all have to be retrained!

Anyway, Nacho Daddy was hopping with avid bingo players. It was nearly full, which was great for the dogs and cats of Vallarta, with all funds raised going towards the 20 sterilizations accomplished every week by Colina. THAT’S what keeps me going back every couple of weeks. Every prize donated helps; every peso helps keep animals off the streets and out of the garbage.

Speaking of garbage, we have gone backward in time, which, in this case, is a good thing. In the old days, a kid with a big old cowbell would run down streets ringing it to alert everybody to bring their trash out for collection. If you weren’t home, too bad, but corners piled high with garbage didn’t exist, at least downtown, where most of our tourists gathered.

The new garbage trucks have a bell attached that the driver can ring as he drives through your colonia. It remains unclear, at least in Centro, what that really means.

However, at midnight, I could hear all kinds of hydraulics banging away with a couple of garbagemen yakking as they presumably loaded trash right below my window – I am a block away from any assigned space for trash collection. It seemed to me and Bogie that they were testing the closing and crushing of bags to ensure the system was working fine. I couldn’t get up to check on the situation as my kitty was sprawled all over me, talking and chirping as fast as the garbage guys on the street were to each other. They eventually moved on, as I knew they would, and peace, quiet, and sleep returned to my street in Lower Gringo Gulch (a self-assigned directional neighborhood name) to end the first night of the new year.

My New Year’s Resolution: to be kind, and when I am kind, I will be kinder.