Have I told you how much I hate packing? If not, consider this that time, right now. I’m swimming in boxes (though not literally, that would call for protective goggles), and I’m having a hard time locating most of my things. Where’s that super glue I didn’t think I would need in the near future? It’s in the heaviest and bottom-most box. And where’s all of my socks? They’re under the 94-pound dog; good luck moving her.
In the mean time, however, accessing the Web seems to be all the harder. My cords are in a tangle and my password list is in one of three locations. BUT I hate those blogs that go on hiatus; I refuse to do it. If I don’t have a schedule, I might as well work in a cubicle for some boney guy named Tug.
Anyway, the following is what I deal with on a regular basis – in quote form. Good or bad, I’ve chosen my favorites to share, from my favorite people. (Yes I keep track, I’m a writer.) I’ll leave the context up to you.
“Schroeder is my favorite because he plays the piano and doesn’t put up with Lucy’s crap.”
“No one knows what happened to them – whether they were killed by Indian peoples or Mormons.”
“Will you pass the Sriracha?”
“Do you mean Hot Cock?”
“Cheetoh is getting fixed; we’re scared she’ll go into estrus soon.”
“Oh is that your neighbors’ name? Do they have cats?”
“My stomach hurts, I have pink eye, and I fractured my leg in four places.”
“You should drink some water.”
“…and then Christianity came along and now we’re all supposed to be modest.”
“That garage needs a new garage.”
“If I could have a whole sandwich of just crust, I would.”
“Mild and sharp cheddar cheeses are good, but medium is disgusting.”
“If Tyler Perry wrote a biography, it would be called ‘Tyler Perry’s Why I’m ridiculous’.”
Agreed folks, agreed.