Rambling

I’m sitting at my desk in the middle of a hot Utah Saturday afternoon.  I’ve already walked (South Jordan River Trail), journaled, gone to the store (dinner and sundries), picked up the mail (our mailboxes are all in a not-so-central location), filled up my gas tank (I smile each time I get to see again how little gas costs here compared to California), and cleaned up the mess it made when I didn’t close the freezer all the way (how many times is he going to do that?).   I’ve fed my cat, Tyson, twice and groomed him.  He is prone to cat-dandruff, you see.  Yes, he’s spoiled.  I think every rescued cat should be spoiled to make up for their bad luck in being abandoned. I thought I was tired enough to nap but after 15 minutes on the sofa, it didn’t happen, so here I am, at my keyboard with a hankerin’ to post and not a topic in mind.  When that happens, you get a ramble.  What’s a ramble?  Reread this paragraph for an example.  It’s a post that is basically (roughly) 600 words of stream-of-consciousness.  Or maybe unconsciousness.  You decide.

I woke up in a bad mood this morning.   Several posts ago. I think I introduced you to the grey-ghost of depression,  In case you don’t know him here is a sketch of him I did in my journal.  I try hard to be positive in the face of all that 2020 has sent our way, but when the grey-ghost throws his grey cloak over my shoulders, I’m back to being Bud Dark, a name I earned in my 12-Step meeting for my sometimes heavy take on things.  When the grey-ghost has me, my Inner Curmudgeon feels free to pontificate about his curmudgeonly outlook on the world.   Today on the way to the river trail his subject was Utah drivers.  Several people have told us they are the worst drivers in the world.   I will say this.  When the light turns green, it means look both ways, not go.  Three … four… five vehicles may run the red over the next 10 or so seconds.  And there are more huge pick up trucks and jeeps here than anyplace I’ve ever been and they drive like they own the road.  They tailgate you until you change lanes, and when you do, they charge past you just as you notice there’s another one coming up behind you.  Then there are the Noisy Little Shitboxes … subcompacts with spoilers and glass-pack mufflers that charge around like it’s the Baha 1000, driving sane people crazy with the racket they make.  Yeah, my Inner Curmudgeon isn’t all wrong.

He’s got one more thing to complain about before I shut him up.  I recently donated twenty bucks to the Joe Biden campaign.  When he was running with Obama, I wasn’t all that impressed and I suppose I’m still not.  But when the alternative is Donald Trump, I’m a Biden fan.  And I like the fire that Kamala Harris brings to the ticket.  But Jeez, since I donated, I get three texts a day, saying This is Joe or This is Kamala or This is Barach Obama, (of course, it’s not it’s a Bot) telling me they’ve been out-raised and can I donate another $20.  And I will donate again but the texts are very annoying.   At least I didn’t donate to Steve Bannon’s Build a Wall Fund and find out that he and his cronies bought a yacht with it!

I hope you have a good weekend.   And don’t worry about Older Eyes.  Things are never as bad as his Inner Curmudgeon says they are and it’s almost time to exile him to the basement of my brain again.

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One Comment on “Rambling”

  1. barrythewiz Says:

    You get lots of sympathy from this fellow old-timer. I heard someone predict that 2020 will become a curse; so instead of “go to hell” we might say “go back to 2020”. Lots of reasons for IC to come out and play!


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