March 11, 2007
My head hurts, my feet stink and I don't love Jesus
Originally published April 21, 2002
White Zinfandel is not a fruit drink and I believe I overindulged yesterday after my son left and I checked my garden to discover that squirrels have eaten the leaves off half my okra plants. I blame that on the drought, but if I put a pan of water out for the squirrels, they would eat the okra anyway, because they are destructive, nasty, fuzzy-tailed tree-rats, and that's what they do. My corn is sprouting, however, and I have a loaded pellet gun by my back door now in case the tree rats make another incursion in broad daylight. The gnawed okra may survive, but the rats won't if I get a shot at them.
I cooked the last of the corn I grew last year for supper last night, and it didn't last long, alas. My neighbor, Sherry The Vegetarian, came over, and she and I grazed heartily on the corn, along with blackeyed peas, rice and turnip greens. It was a meatless but filling meal. She likes White Zinfandel, too. During supper and the wine drinking, I turned my charm-emitter to maximum setting, but it must need new batteries, because she ate, drank and went back home at 9:30 last night. After that, I watched a semi-dirty movie on Cinemax and fell asleep on the couch.
I pissed yesterday away, and I believe I will do the same thing today. I have a lot of things I OUGHT to do, but I don't HAVE to do any of them, so I won't. Living by yourself does offer certain advantages sometimes.
All content © Rob Smith