sometimes its terrible, but usually its something small. like i’ll be feeling great and decide to sit under a tree and read a book, a bird will poop on my head.
this morning i woke up, i didnt have anything planned, i owed no one a visit or even a phone call, i was a man with a blank slate on a sunday morning
precisely the emptiness i yearn for each morning.
saturday night i fell asleep to the sounds of rain falling
sunday morning i woke up with sunshine and beauty and i slipped on my sandals and walk outside to get the paper and i almost slipped and i walked a foot or two and i decided to look back
and yes, i had stepped in a huge pile of dog crap
i picked up the paper and walked back to the scene of the crime and took the hose to my shoe but of course all it did was splash more nonsense onto my brand new clean white athletic socks, and my clean pajama bottoms
and i dont know if any of my neighbors read the busblog
secretly i hope they dont, but if they do, heres what id like
id like for you to go outside after you let your dog out
and pick up the reason you let him outside.
especially since they, as you know, enjoy to present me with their gifts.
i still had a good day but now its 5am its dark and i wanna get the paper and i have to walk all the way around to the front gate and then walk all the way around
like a punk.
sopranos were good but entourage made me laugh.