I was casually driving somewhere to see a a dance recital when BAM chaos erupts in such bizarre ways. Explosions, I survive and then a giant mound of dirt rises up which creates an obstacle course to maneuver. Traffic is panicked. It just went on and on everywhere I went. Epic, there was me, a man I know who is a Priest, my grand daughter and then a lone male stranger who helps us all out. It was all great until I ended up with a mouth full of broken glass.
I saw the men who "valet away my trash" this morning. Takes away a wee bit of the magic. When I put the trash out last night there was a coke can outside my door.
Those of you who know me know I do not drink soda except occasionally, maybe once or twice a month. It was not mine. I assumed the valet people would pick it up. No they did not and as I was walking back up to my door this morning after my hike I noticed another can sitting on a bit of railing. So to the uncouth lummox(s) who believe mine and your world is their personal waste receptacle. We are NOT here to pick up after you. None of us are. Police yourself or if it is your children who are treating the world like this then you are still at fault. Do you want me and mine to leave our unwanted cans of carbonated syrup on your doorstep? Your porch, backyard, front yard
or anywhere else you may go? Or have you just dropped it wherever for so long you just don not see the trail of filth you leave behind? We do and we (I am sorry to say ) treat you accordingly.
Speaking of my door. There was a knock on it Saturday afternoon. I opened it and there stood two, of what I will start out to call young men. He informs me his grandmother lives vaguely (with a wave of his arm) over there. One of them launchs into a speech about public speaking. Somewhere in the back of my mind this is familiar. He stops after a question that made no sense and I say with a smile "I don't get it," He launches into it again and this time faster and and looking at me with intensity claiming it is for a school project. Ah... the light of memory is coming on. He tap dances around the real topic with some dull razzle dazzle with the point being to confuse me so I will ask him to continue. I am shaking my head and I say "No thank you". He whips out the plastic coated proof of his business which is to sell me magazine subscriptions that will never arrive. I say No thank you I am not interested as he his launching into his sales pitch and he stops, puts the card away and leans forward in an aggressive manner and which does not intimidate me and calls me rude. I stare. "You interrupted me, you did not let me finish (all being said in a very aggressive tone) you are rude!" I was starting to close the door. I open it again. Ger ready male creatures. No, You are rude. Rude and childish. You knock on my door, disrupt my weekend, I gave you several minutes if my time which you have disrespected. You are rude, incompetent and disrespectful. Your alleged grand mother would die of shame at your behavior. I close the door. They were ceremonially rejected at the next two doors they approached in my hallway.
But to top off my day my daughter brings me over a bottle of wine.
A plastic bottle of wine. A plastic bottle with a pink label of rose wine. Who would do this? I will drink it out of my Buckees wine glass. No it is not plastic.
Later that evening my nephew arrives with some cognac laced cigars and we crack open a nice dry red in a glass bottle and enjoy some tales of his miss-spent youth ( of which there will still be many more stories).
Breakfast with sausage awaits,
Enjoy your day!
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