Batshit Crazy But No Sunday Sermon

Weird times in the hen house here in Lloyd.
I finally get an egg and it looks more like a torpedo.
When I let the chickens out this morning, Elvis started doing his fancy two-step right next to Mabel which in the summer would mean lay down and assume the position but in the winter seems to mean nothing and I could just hear her saying Oh fer christ sake, ya horny old rooster, leave me alone there's fresh corn on the ground.

I think I might be going crazy and am not even aware of it. Okay, maybe I'm a little aware of it. Maybe I shouldn't have read that book by Keith Richards, maybe I shouldn't have moved into a house built before the Civil War, maybe I shouldn't have been raised by loonies, I don't know. What are you going to do? Put on your damn overalls and get a load of laundry going and make the husband some toast and give him a banana because his stomach is still messed up and hey- does that BRAT diet mean that you have to eat a banana, some rice, some applesauce AND some toast all at once?
I don't think so but I'm not sure.
I hope not. I haven't bought a jar of applesauce since Jesus was circumcised and I only have one apple and that would yield a pitiful amount to go to the trouble to make and the only rice I have is brown and that is probably not as easy on the tummy as white rice.
Had to cancel the brunch with the boys because Mr. Moon's tummy took a turn for the worse last night after I poisoned him with chicken soup. Jessie and I both ate some without any ill results but I should have known better than to let him try and eat some.
So I've given him a banana, like I said, and two pieces of toast, and would it be rude for me to fry up some bacon? I'm hungry.
Plus, I should do something to counteract the entire pot of coffee I seem to be determined to drink this morning as I can feel the needle on the speed-o-meter moving closer and closer to the HEART EXPLOSION! WARNING! WARNING! range of the device.

So. Back to crazy.
How do you know sometimes if you're crazy or just more of your regular self? And is there a difference? Who the fuck knows? Not me.
I dreamed I went to a counselor but I only had three sessions with her and I knew for a fact that wasn't going to take care of MY problems. "Just give me the damn prescription!" I told her and then I was driving around Winter Haven, Florida, looking for a place to eat with my ex-husband.

God. I really sort of want some bacon.

It's probably a damn good thing I have a rehearsal this afternoon. Otherwise I might just die of mold or something here in Lloyd. I'll get in my car and drive to Monticello and get out at the Opera House and go upstairs and try to act like a normal human being who is acting.

Maybe I'll even take a walk this morning if I can find my walking shoes. They're probably filled with dog kibble which I think Zeke hides in them. Did I tell you there's a tiny bird flying around my porch? She can't seem to figure out how to get out. I'd take a picture but


but nothing, go get the camera.

After I took her picture I opened the screen door and she flew out. Poor little thing. Her heart is probably beating faster than mine and that's saying something.

All right. Well, that's about it from me.
I have an egg, I have bacon. I have toast and bananas.

I do not have a sermon and as to hymns, I can't think of anything that would be fitting this morning unless it would be something by David Bowie or Frank Zappa and no, we will not be singing any of those.

I'm crazy, I'm hungry. How are you?