Not really. I mean, I just took a walk and didn't die so there is that to be grateful for. Oh, fuck it. There's so much to be grateful for but still, I have a few things I'd like to bitch about, the main one being fucking WORDPRESS, fuck them and the evil horse they rode in on.
Here's the deal-once, a long, long time ago when I was left alone as a hunter's widow and had too much time on my hands, I signed up on WordPress and started one or two blogs there which I NEVER told anyone about and then completely abandoned. However, it would appear that according to the terms of the agreement you must agree to in order to start blogging with Word Press, you can never really terminate your account. I give you this:
Now this would be just fucking fine EXCEPT FOR THE FACT that any time I try to comment on a WordPress blog it is almost impossible as they want me to comment under my WordPress account and I do not care to. Some blogs allow me to comment using my Google account but this involves signing in, signing out, blah, blah, blah.
Which I often do anyway BUT, some blogs will simply not let my comments be published no matter what I do.
HEART IN HAND- this means you. Also, darling YOLIE!
I have no idea why some will allow me to comment and some just give me an error message.
But this disturbs me.
And I'm sorry. Ah- the foolish mistakes we make when we are young. (I was probably still in my early fifties when I did that which now seems young.)
Okay. Enough about that.
(Grumble, grumble, grumble.)
I slept about eleven hours last night. Or maybe ten. A bunch of them at any rate.
Like a brick. Like a stone, cold brick. Although I did have crazy dreams and I'm back to dreaming about the houses and all the stoves that sort of work and sort of do not work and there was a music festival and my husband was extradited to Canada for illegally shooting game there via tiny, tiny bullets he shot into Google images of their forests. He couldn't even see the animals in the images! It was entirely random and not even possible which was his defense in the matter but in the meantime, he decided he did not love me. (Is this about sex?)
If our dreams are actually visits to parallel universes please do not let heaven be that one.
And if, by some horrible chance it is, please dear baby Jesus, give me more garbage bags because that place needs a lot of cleaning up.
So yes, I took my walk and didn't die, as I said, but I felt like I might there for a little bit. It's hot, it's hot, it's hot. It's motherfucking hotter than hell. It's hotter than BALLS as we say around here.
And here's the spider that is living right beside my back porch.
Two angles, neither picture very good and certainly they do not give the full accuracy of scale of size. Let me just say that I am certainly no arachnophobe but this lady is so big that if by some stroke of the devil she was in my palm, she would not fit and I would faint.
I have many, many golden orb weavers this year but she is the Queen of them all. And I actually saw her and her tiny man mating the other day! Either that or she was just allowing him to take a nap on her. He has since disappeared.
Well, that's the story from Lloyd this morning. I think I'll hang clothes on the line which will sterilize them in this heat and also clean out the hen house and maybe pick a few more peas and then I might sit on the couch and shell peas for hour upon hour. Yep. Sounds good to me.
It would be wrong to take a nap. Right?
Be well. Drink lots of water. Avoid spider webs.