There are a few weeks in May and October where I can just shut off the thermostat altogether, and these past two weeks were apparently it, as I woke up today and it was 45 degrees. You know that scene in the Little House books where Mary and Laura wake up and Pa is sweeping snow off the top of their blankets? By the way, for all your roofing needs, seek Pa. Good work, child abuser.
Anyway I had a weekend and now I will tell you about it and that is why you come here. To retain all the dull drivel that makes up a new day. Fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way.
On Friday evening, I took a walk. I have read that exercise helps with ADD and who knows if it’s true but squirrel.
That never gets old.
Anyway, I was rounding a corner a few blocks away from my house when I saw some chickens. Three of them, of varying sizes and colors. They were just climbing a porch like they were about to go Jehovah’s Chickness on someone’s ass.
Why were chickens on a front porch? I wandered past the house to stare in its backyard. No coop. No chicken toys. What the?
I got m’phone and called Mike the Lumbee. Got his voicemail. “Mike? Are you missing some chickens?” I asked. “They’re over here on the corner of Transitioning and Neighborhood.”
The next morning I had to take Milhous for his shots. It’s been two years I been havin’ Milhous, can you believe?
He went right into his carrier. He meowed never on the way there. They told me he’s a perfect weight (me too) (if you’re a chubby chaser) and he’s in tip-top condition. “He purred through his vaccines,” they told me.
I must return to said vet—who might as well name itself June’s Pet Hoarder Clinic—on Wednesday for Forest to get the big chop. The removal of the bits. I’d say he’ll be singing higher but Forest has the cutest high-pitched squeak of a meow.
Anyway on the drive there I saw the chickens again. Oh, DEAR. I called Mike the Lumbee again whom I had just seen on his riding lawn mower, and he did not answer me. Was he AVOIDING me? I won’t be IGNORED, Lumbee.
Anyway, because there’s a plague on I have to drop off said cats at the vet and wait. So on Saturday I took a walk around the vet’s neighborhood. There’s a beautiful Episcopal church there I love. They took up the whole block with various outbuildings like a bookstore and a music school. I think the Episcopalians are a rich bunch.
Also, I always like wind chimes like this, but if I got some would they drive me crazy? Would the neighbors hate me?
Back before it was all the rage to have a plague, I always meant to stop in here for coffee and books and I never did. I don’t even know if this place is even open now.
Eventually, Mike the Lumbee called. “Those chickens belong to the people next door to where you saw them. They wander all the time. It’s illegal for them not to have them in their pen.”
It is also illegal for M the L to have a rooster but that is beside the point. Also I like that rooster. George. The rooster’s name is George. Mike let me name him.
Anyway, after that I voted. I mean, I dropped the cat home first, although I am just having a total flashback. Two years ago, I took Mil for his shots when he was just a kitten, and it was also a cool fall day, and Peg’s funeral was that day but I wanted to vote real quick. So I went to the voting place and THE LINE WAS HUGE and I spent the whole time worrying Milhous was too hot in the car and when I came back out I was fairly hysterical but he was just fine the end.
I went back to that same early voting place and there was a line out the door, so I said fuq thiz.
They also had early voting at the college A&T, which is the largest HBCU in America and it’s right here in my town. I got TV parking—this picture is taken from my car—and got right in, voted, and left. I totally could have cooked Milhous in this car again without incident.
Also I stopped by work to get The Poet’s cards. Her husband died, and people wanted to send her cards and kept asking me for her address and I kept saying, “Just send them to work; I’ll get them and take them to her.”
They must not be delivering mail much at work because there were none in her little mail cubby and I know people sent them. It did not occur to me to see if they put them on her desk a floor down from the cubbies. Anyway remember when I was there a few weeks ago and saw some of the owner’s stuff on a printer so I took it to her hoping she would not be there because she always looks impeccable and I was wearing a cat stole with cat pants?
On Saturday, I was not as fur-covered but I did have on my Baily Bros. Building and Loan sweatshirt and there she was. Our impeccable owner. Looking perfect. We chatted about The Poet awhile and it would appear I am not fired for wearing a Bailey Bros. Building & Loan sweatshirt.
I got it on Instagram. That’s all I know. Instagram knows the depth of me.
Also on Saturday, a dog wandered onto Chris and Lilly’s place. Lilly said it’s skinny and a little beat up and it flinched when Chris had a stick. Z named it Luna and they have decided to keep it and I really wonder if my animal magnetism is rubbing off on them. They seem to find animals more than I do. Remember the pig? And of course the world’s most prolific cat who gave them all those kittens.
Day one. Dog has selected well.
On Sunday I went back to my trail to walk. On the way in, the trees were all sorts of colors. Purple. Magenta. It was amazing.
But once I got IN the trail, the leaves really haven’t changed all that much.
Come ON, leaves. Change. I got people to entertain, here.
Anyway, after that I want you to know that I came home and THERE WERE THE CHICKENS AGAIN. God DAMMIT. Then I watched Match Game ’78. People are forever asking me which place I find shows and here’s the thing: I just speak into my remote and it finds shows for me and I don’t pay attention. I watched three episodes. I saw Bert Convey, as you do. I saw Brett Sommers and Arlene Francis. I saw Debralee Scott, who always struck me as kind of cheap-looking.
Best of all, there was Charles Nelson Riley, Betty White and Richard Dawson, before he got all gross and kissy. Oh, it was a time! Gene Rayburn had his skinny mike. They played the “I’m thinking” music while they filled in the blank. I’d love to know what happened backstage. Did they all do coke together in the green room?
Anyway, five stars. Highly recommend.
I’d better go and get to work. I worked a little yesterday, and by “a little” I mean three hours, so right now there’s no work for me to do but it will be here soon. I can feel it. The way you feel a good storm.
I’ll talk to you tomorrow, when I have adopted and built a coop for those chickens, whom I have already named K, F and C.
Enjoying my free Turtle Wax and brown blender for being a contestant,