I can't get moving today.
I blame it on the dreams.
So I was in New York City celebrating the fact that I had graduated from high school again because, who knows?
And it was a dream about New York City which was about as absurd as someone FROM New York City dreaming they were in Lloyd being stalked by pythons and bears because people were stealing my stuff and I was trying to wrap a present and my phone wouldn't work and a guy drew a knife on me and it was ridiculous and when I woke up I was totally THANK GOD IT WAS A DREAM!
But I'm still rattled and am not taking a walk and every single thing around here is driving me crazy. The warped doors and dirty floors and mold and mess and clutter everywhere and dammit, I sort of just want to get fifty giant boxes and throw everything in the house in them and have them magically disappear. Poof! Gone! Sixty years of memories and crap.
I mean it.
I don't even give a shit anymore.
I want four rooms with bamboo mats on the floors and one table with a orchid in a clear vase on it.
Okay. Some toilet paper might come in handy.
Why is life so fucking messy?
Took the trash and stopped in at the post office where I saw a woman I know. She was limping badly and had a walking stick the size of whale dick.
"What happened?" I asked.
"My horse fell on me. My pig scared her and she fell right on me."
I had to ask, right?
"Goodness," I said. "Did you break anything?" And as soon as I said that I thought, no, no, no.
"Nope!" she said, "And do you know why?"
Here it comes, I thought.
"Because I've never drunk cokes. If you drink cokes, your bones get brittle."
Yep. There you go. Everyone in the world who has brittle bones got them from drinking Coca Colas.
Well, those are the highlights from Lloyd today.
I've got laundry going and am going into town to go to lunch with Hank and run by the library and perhaps go to the dreaded Bed Bath and Beyond or maybe Target to see if I can get some sort of organizational shelves to help with this kitchen project and of course the grocery store where I need to pick up a carton of Coca Colas.
Not really. I don't drink the stuff although occasionally I do crave one. As an old lady once said to a friend of May's after the woman's mother had died, "Honey, let's have a Coca Cola. Sometimes there is nothing so soothing as cold Coca Cola."
Cha-Cha just laid an egg and Mick "The Rooster" Jagger is running his fat rump over there to take her back to the flock. He truly is growing into a very fine rooster. He'll probably start fucking Lisa Marie and Elvira here before I know it. I hope that convinces them to be part of the flock. Last night they roosted on top of the hen house and sure as shit, an owl or a hawk is going to get them if they keep doing that.
Even chicken life is messy.