devotion

The lake is beautiful and so is your cabin, but watch out for that stray dog coming there.

Aw, that’s just old Shep. He’s ours.

I though he lived down at your house.

Yeah, we leave him there but he always runs the twenty miles up here anyway.

Jeez, that’s devotion.

 

For Five Lines or Less

Compromise

“Let’s work this out.”

“I want to work it out but I will not compromise my principles.”

“Me neither. Do we agree that we’re equals.”

“Yes. Not exactly equal in every way, but added up, yes.”

“So when it comes to cooking?”

“You do the cooking, but cooking is part of the bigger picture.”

“And cleaning up the kitchen afterwards?”

“You also do that. Just part of the bigger picture.”

“And shopping to buy the food to cook?”

“It’s all part of the same thing. We’re not equal in every little detail.”

“Raising the kids?”

“I helped make them ha ha… But seriously, I take them to school.”

“Making their breakfast? Putting up lunches for school? Picking them up after school? Planning their time after school?  Afternoon snacks? Helping them with their homework? Play dates? Buying their clothes? Keeping them clean? Dentist? Pediatrician?”

“I took Timmy to Dr. Goldman that time.”

“Changing the sheets? Vacuuming? Keeping in touch with both our families? Sending out Christmas cards?”

“Look, Honey. It’s not a compromise but I’ll clean up my work area in the garage.”

“For the first time this decade?”

“I’ll pick up that stuff at the dry cleaners.”

“You mean your extra suit and your shirts with the stains from the pub?”

“I go to work every day. I earn my share. I’m not compromising, but what else do you want?”

“We both go to work every day. Counting my royalties, I actually make more than you do. I’m also thinking you’re not as smart as you think you are.”

“But I’m good looking ha ha… Listen, I will not compromise my principles but I will come to an agreement. Tell me what you want.”

“Let’s start with these dirty dishes.”

 

For Daily Post

I’ve lost my home of 20 years

It started out as a box.

The former tenant, a dishwasher, had vacated, and I moved in.

This was in the trash-bestrewn lot behind Moe’s Used Appliances. I was living in a canvas pup-tent bag at the time. To reside in an actual box was heaven, plus I had the lot to myself, not counting the vermin.

Later, I stole tape to add to the box a large carton emptied of its frozen turkeys. I’m not proud of that crime. Later I replaced the tape with staples. This didn’t absolve me of the original theft, but I felt better not staring at the tape all the time. I stole a stapler to do this.

By the time the rains and then the snow came, I had my home waterproofed with a tarp I borrowed.  Time passed in a blur. It’s like that when you get situated securely in life, right? Your kids, or in my case, rats, are born. They grow up and leave home. You put in your time as a member of society, in my case begging in front of the butcher shop. Next thing you know, you’re older.

I’m not as sharp as I was but I’m still game. I took a wrong turn somewhere but I’ll figure it out. The town has grown but it’s still my town. My home is out there somewhere. If I keep looking, I’ll find it.

The Budget Will Pass Before Midnight

Boy we’ve had our troubles passing our annual budget this year.

Times are tight. Al wants this and that. I want the other.

So far we’ve kept our tempers, but it seems neither of us wants to compromise.

We’re sworn to settle this. To write a budget and sign it before the sun comes up.

Deadlock.

The kids are over at Grandma Jane’s, out of the way.

Then Bob comes by and asks Al if he wants to walk down to the VFW for a beer. Go on, I say, it’ll do you good. Order yourself a shot and let the beer chase it, I say, and they’re off.

Now I sit down and open the spreadsheet on the Mac. I’m alone and suddenly I’m in the mood to compromise. I give Al some of what he wants. Why not? We’re a team, aren’t we? Married thirty-five years. I give myself some of what I want.

Time passes and the budget is finished. I print it out. When Al walks in, he’ll be three sheets to the wind but that’s ok because Al is a pleasant drunk. I’ll sit him down and rub his shoulders and give him a cup of coffee and a piece of coffee cake and he’ll sign and I’ll sign and we’ll turn in.

Our version of the government.

WWI’s Zeppelin Bombings Popularized the Trend of ‘Pyjamas’

Had a scare last night. Possible missile attack. I changed into my lead-lined PJs. Wow are those things heavy.

Turned out the missile warning was just a bad dream but I left the PJs on. Truth to tell, once I lay down, I couldn’t get up. The housekeeper found me.

Second time this year I’ve had to change my nightclothes and it’s just February. The first time was when I had the radio playing and just before I drifted off, a flu warning was broadcast, or something about flu season. Don’t remember. I was half asleep. I got up and put on my “flu nightclothes.” These cover my complete body, including the head, with a fabric that traps flu viruses, guaranteed. I bought the suit online. Made in Worf Puleria. Rather stuffy, but two weeks have passed and I remain flu-free.

There have been a spate of home invasions lately in this area. I’ve purchased my “home-invasion PJs,” once again online. They require assembly, as they seem to be some sort of structure.

 

Diary: Defense or Domestic Spending?

12 Dec – Had budget summit with hubby. Predictably, he wants to spend our discretionary surplus on defense. I want to spend it on something useful. We agreed to meet again.

13 Dec – Hubby wants 24/7 video surveillance system. He’s nuts. Neighborhood is safe. I say, let’s spend the money getting those feral cats neutered. They’re multiplying. Hubby turns ugly. We’ll meet again.

14 Dec – Hubby semi-drunk and truculent. Lays out all the specs on the surveil system he wants. Bonkers.

15 Dec – I come home from work today to find the surveil system installed. Hubby happy again, at least.

16 Dec – Hubby spends a lot of time reviewing the surveil tapes. Shows me some. The feral cats have been eating Mopsey’s rabbit food. Nothing else to report.

17 Dec – Hubby reports the feral cats set off the surveil alarm today. Pressure sensors in our grass. Also, the cats have been pooping in our herb beds.

18 Dec – Feral cats left remains of several rats on our porch swing last night.

19 Dec – Hubby has compiled instances of the feral cats mating on the surveil tapes. Seems delighted at the data the system is producing.

20 Dec – Cats caught our favorite mockingbird. Hubby says he hated that bird.

21 Dec – Came home tonight to discover the surveil system has been stolen. I suspect John Hughes next door did it. He blames us for the feral cat explosion, just because the original pair of them belonged to us before they ran off.

People are ditching cars and flying to the airport in helis (Axios)

I’m a member of the 1% and I don’t care who knows it.

My family knows it and they know they aren’t. I’m keeping my hard-earned inheritances all to myself. If we start allowing families to share (chain sharing), they’ll fritter our money away. On fritters haha.

I use helis all the time. I don’t deny that either. Fracking in the backyard pays for the fuel they use.

Ever since I added rooms to the house, and greater size to the rooms in the house, and to the number of stories the house has, I’ve been using helis to get from, say, my private dining room to my bathroom. The rest of the family takes the bus!

I used to have myself carried to the airport in a palanquin borne by toadying sons and daughters, but that was when it was closer to the terrace. Now that I’ve moved Dubuque, Iowa, back there (won in a poker game with other 1%ers), the airport has been pushed farther away.

Is wealth a burden? Only for the 0.1%… because we 1%ers are always asking them for loans!   🙂