Monday, November 13, 2006
I was roaming thru my list of blogs and as usual, Buffalo had written a post concerning the wonders of having nothing to write about, only nobody I know can take such a dearth of material and make such sweet hay out of it.
So here I sit in much the same situation. I have nothing to write about. Oh, sure, I could regurgitate plenty of my own take on the surreal happenings in politics this week, but I'm still trying to adjust to the new reality, still expecting the worst, still hoping for the better. I'm the worlds most pessimistic optimist, or optimistic pessimist, take your pick. I WAS considering lording it over anyone who was actually stupid enough to think gas prices wouldn't shoot straight back up as soon as election day was over, but hell, I think anyone who did would have shot himself anyway. Then again, anyone that stupid doesn't have the sense to relieve his own misery, because he's so mentally numb that a mercy killing would be beyond his comprehension. Yes, I can be cruel when I want to.
But tell me, you husbands, or significant others of the male persuasion, does YOUR mate suffer from "cleaning seizures"? You know, those periods when your female loved one starts cleaning anything within reach with the slightest trace of dust or dirt on it and can't seem to stop? I really wouldn't mind this condition my wife suffers from so often if it wasn't for the side effects that go along with it. It only happens when I myself am engrossed in an activity, like trying to post to my blog, but NOT when I am already performing some chore around the house. Women engaged in these seizures will perform their "missions from God Almighty which MUST be performed NOW and must be completed at ALL costs no matter HOW long it takes" rather loudly, in order to insure that you are VERY aware that they are having these seizures, and that you, their loving husband, really should be feeling quite guilty about doing something you might actually enjoy rather than leaping up and helping them experience their all consuming and vital to national security activities. Other side effects include constant "Honey, can you grab this or that for me and bring it over here", or "Could you hold this up for me while I sterilize underneath it where not one photon has ever landed", or "My God, this was SOOOOO FILTHY!". If, for some reason, you have been so engrossed (and in defiant denial) in your activity that you have managed somehow to block out her oscar winning performance, you WILL hear the inevitable "sigh", the kind of sigh that an SR-71 Blackbird passing over your property at mach 3.8 would produce. If you look this version of "sigh" up in the dictionary, it would be defined as "I hope you are enjoying yourself doing nothing of any importance whatsoever while I am slaving away over here!" I think Webster was married, or had a significant other, also. Oh, and one more important requirement for this condition is that it usually occurs AFTER a full day of activities, after the evening meal has been eaten, when any other rational human would have decided it was a fine time to wind down and smell a few roses. (addendum: you wouldn't BELIEVE what I got when I googled "cleaning fetish")
Oh, and yes, we did have a full day. Got up, took out the trash, burned the paper, fed the goats, did some assorted other odd things, took the wife to the doctor, and dismantled the king sized waterbed frame to study possible methods I might employ to convert it to a queen sized frame that might fit the two hospital mattresses we'll be putting some memory foam pads on to give me something I can sleep on that won't make my mornings the agony they have been trying to get up in the morning having slept this aging back on a waterbed. It's not as simple a proposition as you might think. There's going to be a lot of sawing, bracing, and creative adaption in order to make this work. Why am I going thru all this instead of just going out and buying a new bed? Have you priced a GOOD mattress lately? Nuff said.
I still can't think of anything to write about, but while I'm at it, would you believe that one of my neighbors actually called animal control and suggested that I was starving my goats? You can imagine my shock when that dog-catcher truck pulled up in my front yard and the guy with the clipboard walks up and asks if I'm so and so and do I have some goats. I gave him the tour. I showed him my fat (obese is more like it) happy goats, where I feed them, what I feed them with, the places I tie them out to eat weeds and grass, the watering bucket, the barn I built for them, and asked him if he understood that you can feed a goat the state of Nebraska and they STILL want more...........I think he got the picture. Now, if I could just find out who to bitch slap and tell to mind their own frigging business.......
My muse is still missing, but you know, what really pisses me off about representative government is how your "representatives" make decisions taking money out of your pocket without asking you first how you feel about it. Oh, sure, they call a public meeting to hear objections, but since they already have the contract out and have sent out the billing notices, it's not like they really give a rats ass whether you like their decision or not. We out here on the periphery of civilization (another word for "rural") have been hauling our own trash to the county landfill (and being charged quite handsomely for the privilege), but now, our county commissioners in their great wisdom have decided that we need to have garbage trucks come and do it for us for another $150 a year (on TOP of the trash fee we already pay) whether we can afford the extra expense or not, and have noted in the notice of intent that they WILL come after our property if we don't pay the bill. This is our elected representatives looking after us. That is, the "US" being the brother-in-law or second cousin who happens to own the waste disposal company that got the contract. Well, fine. I hope these contractors like the smell of goat poop! I think maybe I have enough and can share.
Well, folks, I'm sorry, but I haven't been able to come up with anything profound to write about tonight and the dog is behind me growling to get let out or fed a treat or something. Any guy who thinks he's KING of his castle is deluded. That is, unless he lives alone and has no pets, or produces any garbage whatsoever.