Woke up this morning from extremely amusing dreams, none of which involved Keith Richards but you can't ask for everything. Also discovered, upon arising, that I had a tick firmly attached to my belly and chigger bites in the crotchular area.
Oh, what a great beginning to a week! I tweezed the tick out and scratched my crotch and really, I should not be going out in public this week because when a chigger bite itches, you are going to scratch it and that's all there is to it.
Took the dogs to Ms. Beverly's for their grooming and they were happy as always to go and see her. When we get to the beginning of the long driveway, Dolly starts singing her happy soprano opera about the joys of being groomed and she continues it until she is in her little waiting-cage. Ms. Beverly and I had a lovely chat, as we always do, and then I came home and took my walk in the hot, wet air of Lloyd and now I'm back, sheets in the washing machine, and pretty happy despite the insect assault on my person.
It's the dog days, I guess. I don't know.
And there you have it. Life in all its glory or at least what passes for glory around here. I wish I had a joke or even a rant but I just don't. Instead I have a pretty swell life, a little fan blowing on me as I cool down, a washing machine, and cabinets stocked with a fair amount of food. It's hard to get worked up about anything with such riches at my disposal.
Ms. Beverly asked me what I was going to bitch about when my dogs do finally die. I said, "I'll find something."
And I will.
But for today, even though the dogs are merely away for a few hours and still very much alive, I just don't feel like bitching or even complaining. Hell, even the chiggers and the tick were just doing what they're supposed to do and it's not their fault they found me to do it to.
But if you have something to bitch about, go ahead and tell me about it in the comments. I'll get all worked up on your account. I promise.
Happy Monday, y'all.