I am beginning to catch up with life and a positive attitude. War with Iran? Before January it’s a foregone conclusion. Bet your house on it if you’re still keeping up with the payments. Any activity Congress engages before putting #43 in chains and shackles (along with his best buds Cheney and Rove, proves my point. Until they are in a safe place and out of the war business (Guantanamo Bay would work) our future is as promising as a root canal. Congress (the general idea was called “checks and balances”) is collectively little better than accessories to real lies, high crimes and felonius deprivation. There comes a time when you know you can’t avoid crashing into that semi-truck whose drunk driver just crossed the white line into your lane, so you simply enjoy breathing while you can before the inexorable impact with the next dimension. That’s what I’m doing now, and that accounts in part for my more positive attitude. It only hurts when I laugh,
The neighborhood association newsletter is done, the proofreading of the American Aviation Historical Society Newsletter is DONE, scanning some recently arrived aviation magazines for indexing later today is DONE, and delivering two more recently demised mice to the Vine Street Nature Conservancy to fertilize the green profusion is DONE, and that last item reminds me. . .
Thanks to my gradually fading hearing, and perhaps tecause the mice are wearing socks, I missed the usually aural clues that I was harboring freeloaders, starting about the time I came home after walking out of Kentucky Fried Chicken on Ninth Street. (See How I Saved $11.95…previously posted). COINCIDENTS (as #43 or Dan Quayle might say) ? I doesn’t thank so.
Point ISZZ that because I was not looking for them, expecting them this summer, my first clue that Blogger S’ouse was inhabituated by them was when I watched a dark street sprint from under a big old chair to my record albums. How it squeezed into that tight space between record jackets and speakers is a mystery. I knew right away that I was hosting “meese” as the old Hanna-Barbera cartoon characters said, and as they also said, “I hate meeses to pieces.” It was time for counter-offensive action, and I don’t mean insulting Democrats as much as I insult Republicans. It was time to break out the County Market Split Top Wheat and traps again.
It’s been a bountiful harvest so far. Four and counting. I deposit them on newsprint (only the best: Illinois Times) dump them in the back yard greenery as far from the house as possible, pitch the IT pages in the nearby container, return to the house, wash mon hands and return to normal programming.
The battle continues. I know I’m making progress, and the plants in back have never looked better.
Live long . . . . . . . . . and proper.
