Man, I just got back from all the Black [Plague] Friday sales. I left the house at 2:30 a.m. so I could stand in line at Highland Appliance. Got a mean deal on an Atari and several Teddy Ruxpins.
I don’t even know what an Atari is. Is it like Pong? I played that once, circa 1977, at my Uncle Jim’s. He was young and newly married with a baby on the way and probably should not have been spending his hard-earned money on Pongs. He also had a CB radio he probably shouldn’t have indulged in, which I similarly played with.
This was back in the ’70s, when in my hometown anyone could work in the factories and make a pretty decent income. Once I was in my parents’ bedroom watching TV, but when I opened the door, there was a trail of money down the hall. I was pretty delighted by this and kept picking up the cash, till I got to the living room and there was my Uncle Jim, who lived to vex me, laughing. He took his money back.
Anyway, I played Pong once and sort of reached my Pong threshold. Did video games get interesting-er or are they pretty much just Pong with better pictures? Also, say “Pong” one more time.
Did they even have in-store sales this year, she asks sequiter-ly? I know nothing about them. Since I don’t have TV I don’t see commercials. I just see Instagram ads that know my very [dark] soul.
Anyway how are you? I am surrounded by Christmas bins that hailed from the snake shed, and my throat has become sore, which of course led me to assume ‘Rona Barrett 19th Nervous Breakdown was here till I remembered I am allergic to dust and what exactly do I think these bins gathered all year in the ssssssshed?
I always forget about my exotic dust allergy till I experience it. Then I’m all, why the sore throat and runny nose? I ask this of myself while I’m in an attic or inhaling a dust bin or standing in a dust storm or mixing something in the dust bowl or hanging with Dusty Springfield. Then I remember my allergy and right then I know. Really keeps me from enjoying dust like everyone else.
I don’t even WANT to decorate the house, but if I don’t I’ll feel like I’m not participating in society, which I’m not. I guess I like to give the outward appearance that I’m festive.
This damn Black Friday cat is lying across my wrists, as per usual, and let me tell you something. The whole rest of the day I’m over here saying, “Forest, please come sit on me. You’re so cute. Come here Forest.” and all day he gives me that blank blinky look that cats give you. The only time he has any interest in me is when I’m blogging, and then all of a sudden my wrists are a tempting silk pillow.
He’s so lovely, though. His fur is so thick, and yet silky. I really do need to get him a different water bowl. His entire ruff gets in the bowl, so his chest is forever wet, which is pleasant for no one, particularly my wrists right now. Next paycheck for sure. I just checked to see if I got paid today, because payday is the 30th but that would mean the deposit would have to go in Sunday and how is that possible, so I was hoping maybe it was there today, but no. I have a very lucky $13.13 in checking today. Look, it’s not like I’m low on food.
I, like everyone else here in America, had turkey and dressing and mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes—because it’s important to have both—and pumpkin pie yesterday, and look not unlike a big glop of mashed potatoes myself, so I have the vim of a housecat. I have the vim of Lily right now.
What I really want to do is watch season two of Virgin River and drink forbidden coffee all day. Watching Virgin River is like watching 8 to 10 hours of a Hallmark movie.
But these dusty bins are scratching at my throat, telling me to get my ass all Christmassy. My favorite thing. Christmas.