After 40 years as a computer programmer and game developer—and the passing of his wife of 47 years—Rick has retired and is now living in Ye Olde Folks Home, where he still tinkers with tech and likes to write these amusing and/or thoughtful tales about his storied life.

The FCAL Project
Pepe Le Pew Finds New Lodgings
In Memoriam: Dale Lear
Bingo Bedlam at Ye Olde Folks Home
There’s a Shortage of Perfect Movies…
One Day at the DMV
A Visitor from Microsoft
“He Who Should Not Be Named”
Downton… Abbey?
This Home is a Liver-Free Zone
My 9/11 Rememberances
My Yearly Pumpkin Spice Rant
Done In By Baker’s Square
My Eulogy for Alice
“Dear Rikki…”
A Clean, Well-lighted Place for Books
Memories of my First Computer
A Little Excitement at the Staff Meeting
The Tale of Mrs. Butler
Sun, Sand, and a Margarita
“Thou Shalt Not Steal”
Troubleshooting at Ye Olde Folks Home
Stories of my Mother
I’ve Heard Angels Sing
Elevator Mishap at the Eye Clinic
One Day at Fair, Isaac
Saturday Morning Cartoons
A Sprig of Parsley
Fun With Recruitment Ads
Leave Her to Heaven
“Squirrel!”
Bring me Dave Bringle!
Beware! The Oldsters Are Coming!
Life Among the Progressives
A Family Ritual While Watching Masterpiece
The Unforgettable General Oppy
“Don’t Even THINK About Parking Here”
A Dubious Plan Gone Awry
The Singing Christmas Tree!
One Day in the Hospital Lab
The Legend of the Broken Timer
Nelson’s Fruit Stand
This One Time in Glee Club…
Star Trek References for the Win
Family Psalm, Stuck in Lodi
Vacation in Branson
Clyde and Ruth Revisited
COVID Policies During my Wife’s Fatal Illness
I Guess I’m the Shadow IT Department Now
The Tale of Clyde and Ruth
My Garden of Gethsemane Story
We Might Get a Virus!

Clyde and Ruth Revisited

The denouement of the Clyde and Ruth saga has finally arrived!

Quite a while back I asked our apartment management about the two dead flies in our dining room that no staff in any capacity seemed to be interested in addressing. I joked that they’d been there so long I’d given them names.

I was assured that something would be done, but nothing was, despite some little signs I helpfully placed next to the dearly departed pointing out which one was “Clyde” and which was “Ruth.”

That was two weeks ago. We had the next monthly community meeting with management yesterday, and I waited till the end to approach the building manager privately.

“Remember those two flies I told you about last month?”

She gasped. “You mean they’re still there!?”

I gestured to the two flies on the windowsill behind me, then took a conciliatory tone. “I believe I have had enough fun at your expense, so I—”

“I will take care of it,” she interrupted.

“—so I have brought down a vacuum and I will—”

“No,” she interjected firmly. “I will take care of it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I acquiesced.

About an hour later I looked into the dining hall to see one of my favorite servers scrubbing down all the windowsills like her life depended on it, and no trace of Clyde or Ruth remained.

Those windowsills gleamed when she was done. I made sure to tell both the building manager and dining hall manager how impressed I was.

I will apologize to her the next time I see her.