A good walk, a strong walk, I think I will live another day, perhaps, maybe, whatever.
I went down a wood's path to pee and damn if there wasn't a sign warning me No Trespassing! No Horses! No ATV's, No Foot Traffic, No FWC, Smile You're On Camera!
To make the matter even more clear, a wire was stretched across the path.
I should have smiled, pulled down my britches, squatted and peed right there but did not. I turned around and peed in another spot.
Going to town to help Jessie shop. She and Vergil are taking Gus up to Asheville this week for a wedding and much meeting of the tiny prince. Jessie needs some new clothes and I am honored to help her. I haven't seen that baby in days and am suffering from the lack.
The moon must be in Phones Fucked. Mr. Moon dropped his and the screen cracked, despite the heavy-duty case it's in. And my camera isn't working.
A train is thundering by. I need to hang clothes and take a shower. I am listening to yet another Phillipa Gregory tome on audio book and so am in the world again of 16th Century England with all of the Marys and Margarets and Annes and Henrys and Boleyns and Tudors and Plantagenets and curses and fevers and childbirth and loss and power and strategies and so much praying endlessly for healthy sons.
I love it. I can't help it.
It is candy for the brain, it is faux-history for the uncaring ignorant.
That is all.