Gawdlmighty, what Looney Toons around this place! It’s beginning to look more and more like I’m going to have to move into one of those horrible holding pens for old folks. I’m not going to be able to live in this house or take care of the property without having someone HERE, with me, to deal with the unending slew of stupid little crises.
Now the barbecue is on the fritz, apparently as a result of some bird-brained cleaning lady’s ministrations. Naturally, today is Sunday, so I can’t get anyone out here to work on that.
And if that weren’t enough, something on the roof — presumably one of the whirling vents — is going BANG BANG BANG BANG….
Don’t want to ask my son about that, because I really don’t want him climbing around the roof.
Ohhhh Gawd!
I’m afraid it’s time.
Time to move into the old-folkerie.
What a horror.
Few things do I abominate more than institutional living. Just HATED living in the dorms at the university. And that is NOT how I want to spend the last few months or (God forbid!) years of my life. Frankly, before things reached this point I hoped I would die — of a natural passing; don’t panic, I’m not talking suicide here.
Jeez. I just CANNOT BELIEVE one of those nitwit women wrecked my barbecue. What the f*ck is the MATTER with people?