Saturday, June 7, 2014

four points

I intended to visit another funeral today and after the dolla' store run decided that this little hiccup and gas thing was turning into a full blown bug so I had to pass. When I came in the door of said store the sweet 'lil thing said hello and smiled and I considered the irony of my reason for visiting the manager. Earlier in the week when I was checking out with a couple of items she was rude and made some kind of remark as I left about "people who think they're somebody." Now, I'm just saying. If you consider an old gal in cut off sweatpants and no bra a threat, you got attitude. Manager lady said it was the first complaint so I guess maybe she was just having a bad day. I then proceeded to shop a little and ran into several people I know and haven't talked to in eons so of course we all hugged and stood around next to the cheaply made goods that are vintage DG. At least we don't have to drive ten miles for milk. Kim is a candle maker and I put in an order for a mango which is my all time favorite. Oh, and Mediterranean Fig in that little house box.

Following our mini-derecho the other day limbs are being cleared and such and the sun is finally out heating up all that moisture into humidity. Yay! That's why I stay inside a lot because southern belles just wilt when they sweat glisten. I have a house full today with Shannah at work. At the moment three of them are watching one of Booger's movies, all snuggled up together. On my way home I saw an old hearse for sale at the junk place with a "for sale" sign on it and I thought back to when the coolest guy in town drove one. He was my crush and several years older. If I'm not mistaken it had an American flag painted on it. Oozing hippieness.

I'm now the proud owner of a two year contract with a sat provider and still can't find what I want because of all the fluff. I wandered through BG's room the other day and she was watching some weird kind of reality show, the kind that brings out morbid fascination in even the least of freaks. About the worst ten minutes ever is the time when the recording of Chelsey includes the end of the Kardashians. Talk about morbid!

Today's music to blog by? John Mayer, thankyouverymuch. Love ya. Mean it.

No comments:

Post a Comment