Big Pile of Dirty Mashed Taters

It's colder than a witche's tit in a brass bra.... words my dad shared with us kids growing up. Nice. It IS cold, and I can't get warm. I am eager to finish up here at work and go HOME. HOME. I wanna be HOME.

The animals are driving me crazy. Squeege is beginning to smell foul. He gets his hair cut on Monday. He'll look like a different dawg. Right now, he looks a bit like a dirty mop, or, a big pile of mashed potatoes. Dirty potatoes. He has it out for Lily the cat. I don't know what the heck is up with that. But, Lily has to tip toe around the house and then the dawgs go nutso and chase her down like an.... animal. It ticks me off. She's treated like crap.

Last night, at the church supper, there was a deafening silence when pastor asked how me and the kids were. When I replied that my son had been arrested for defacing private property, not a mouthful of pie could be heard. No smiles. Nothing. Like, 'oh, man, that sucks'. Just silence. I'm still not in the club yet, I guess.

I keep on a-tryin.

Ok, so, am I really THAT funny looking? The 'matches' I get from this particular dating site all close before they open. And, from the looks of things, I look just as good, if not sometimes better than my 'matches'. My matches all sound like Jim Jones or Jerry Falwell. I don't want that. I want something much more interesting. And, I'd prefer that they can spell.

I suppose I'll be one of those women with sensible shoes who walks her dogs and complains about noisy neighbors. And, I'll wear transition lenses that change at the most inopportune times. I'll drive a dirty blue car and wear hose that are the wrong shade. I'll part my hair in the middle and wear baggy jeans. Oh, wait. that IS me. No, it really isn't, not all of it. Not the lenses. Not the hose. Not the middle part. No, not really.

I hate science fiction. I just hate it. I really hate fantasy. I just saw an ad for some new sci fi movie. Hate it. I don't miss that with my husband. He loved sci fi. I could not relate.

I hate clowns and balloons, too.

Christmas cannot come soon enough for me, so I can pack away all of the decorations. I'm sick of all of it. I don't know how I will afford presents, either. And, I am certain I'll get nothing in return. I don't want lotion, I don't want soap. I want peace on earth, especially in my house. I want Squeegy to smell better. I want him to stop chasing Lily. I want to go HOME. Right now.