Funny about Money

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. ―Edmund Burke

Fighting Uphill through Dystopia

Wow! This has been One of Those Days. Ever have a day where you felt like every  moment you were fighting uphill…against yourself? 😀

So for the fourth night in a row, I wake up at 2 in the morning and don’t get back to sleep. Along about dawn, I give up and roll out of the sack.

Normally at 5 a.m. I’d take the dogs for a mile-long walk: good for them, good for me. After yet another five-hour night, though, instead I wandered in to the computer to glance at the news. Then drifted over to the chapter I’m writing, which has been going exceptionally well. I’ve been working toward finishing a particularly difficult section of the thing…and when I sat down, got pulled into that.

Come 7:30 a.m., that section was written — we’re now at 62 endnotes, just for that one chapter. (This stuff is astonishing! What has been and still is going on boggles the brain.)

By now it’s getting a bit late for a doggy-walk, but thanks to Hurricane Bud’s outer fringe breezing through a couple days ago, by 7:30 it’s not yet unduly hot. So I decide to shoot out the door, despite the late hour, because the other day we failed to go out and I need not to get back into the no-walk habit.

Foolishly, though, I elect to take the route south from the Funny Farm, which is less shaded than the path through Upper Richistan. This: mistake.

Southward from here is Cassie’s favorite place to take a dump. I do not understand what it is about this particular house, but by damn, Cassie wants more than anything on this earth to dump upon its lawn. Specifically, to take up her position in front of the shack’s huge picture windows so the resident can watch her defiling the yard.

Naturally, I carry blue doggy-bags around with me. But really: every goddam day this dog has to dump on THAT lawn? If I were the homeowner, I’d be irked.

So to minimize the effect, I walk them past the house on the other side of the street and then go south on the sidewalk that passes along the side of the house. That way, when she hunkers down she at least isn’t making a spectacle of herself (and us) through the front-facing windows.

This takes us over a long stretch of fast-heating concrete and asphalt. Meanwhile, Cassie is putting up a fight: she drags  backward while Ruby drags forward. And at this moment, as we’re crossing the street, she decides to sit down in the middle of the goddamn road anbd not budge.

Here we have the flavor of the day: drag me forward, drag me backward.

Finally I cut short the stroll, leave the dogs at the house, and go out to finish the mile-long course.  By the time I get back, it’s starting to get hot.

A-a-a-n-d I haven’t watered the plants in back. In Arizona heat, you either water your potted plants or you watch your plants die. Fly outside to do that job and see the pool walls are draped with moss. Again. Mustard algae: it was cleaned up pretty well yesterday, and now here it is back again.

Feed the dogs. Fly back outside.

Screw on the pressure sprayer, jump in the drink, wash down the steps and seat and walls and walls and walls and walls and walls… Dump in more chlorine.

Notice that I must have slopped olive-oil marinade on the patio while I was entertaining friends Sunday evening. Spray the spots on the concrete and sandstone flags with diluted Dawn, let it sit.

Visit my neighbor, WonderAccountant, to gift her and Mr. WonderAccountant with the remaining half-bottle of wine from the recent shindig. It’s my favorite wine. I, however, am on the wagon and do not want this elixir to be wasted, so figured they might enjoy it. Hang out for awhile, chatting pleasantly.

After the series of sleepless nights, I decide to go back to bed for a short nap. Amazingly, it works: I’m out cold and even enjoying a dream. A fairly involved dream, complete with developed plot and characters…and of course the phone rings:

Hellooo, this is Rachel from Card Services…


Onward to spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning and oiling the kitchen cabinets. Fun job… 😮 But the result is pretty nice.

And speaking of Fuck…

If you are not listening to Rachel Maddow on what that bastard in the White House is doing to the children he has stolen from their parents, you sure as fuck should be. Get it on the Internet: google Rachel Maddow. Or better yet, go straight to the horse’s mouth: Pro Publica:

This is simply inexcusable. We put a wannabe Balkan dictator in the White House, funded by multibillionaires who want to change America to fit their perverse tastes, and what we get is a country converted into a wannabe Balkan dictatorship.

If there breathes an American who does not feel shame for this, then that person is not much of an American.

Or maybe we should say this is not America. We have lost our country.

Author: funny

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One Comment

  1. LOL….”Rachael” calls our house EVERYDAY…without fail…This is too funny!