Oh hell, Donald Trump for president!

I can’t believe I would suggest this, yet I am considering voting for Donald Trump. I am so disappointed over the fight for the recently vacated Supreme Court seat. Let both the Republicans and the Democrats enjoy their sense of entitlement and suffer for it. Four years with  an unstable Head of State should serve as a reminder to EVERY “servant” in our government that it is about compromise, not power.

Something something goes here.

 Trash cans have not arrived. They are paid for. The cable service, which is supposed to be canceled as of Friday is still available with limited channels in the bedrooms.

The Rolling Stones sang, “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try some times, you just might find you get what you need.”

By default we’ve become hoarders. A testament to that bit of wisdom that says when you don’t make a decision you have already decided.

I have learned more about my neighborhood surroundings in these four years without trash service then in the 34 years previous to that. An overgrown yard has revealed the subtle ways of animal and bird behavior. The birds favor the overgrowth of plants; mammals like garbage; reptiles like clutter.

 I have revisited Waldenpond without reading the content. I know woodpeckers jump. Hummingbirds are selfish, even toward the bees. A lizard’s bite feels like a tiny clamp and leaves a tiny imprint. To avoid getting eaten they play dead and then look for an all-clear signal by sneaking a peek, opening one tiny eye.  Raccoons take the same path every night.  Birds announce to their group when there is fresh food in the feeder and then fight over it when they all come at the same time. Skunks could care less; about you or any other form of life.  Some moderately-sized object travels quickly pass my bedroom windows before daylight on a few occasions each month.

And cats will pee on everything.

Trash service or your balls!

Kitty Hill gave me $500. I chose three things as priorities for the cash: a digital tv, a nueter surgery on the remaining un-fixed feline, and trash service.

Expecting Edco to drop off the cans tomorrow. I can live again.

I told dad/john that I wanted him to promise he would never again allow that service to go unpaid or be discontinued for as long as I am alive.

He squirmed, “that’s a long time.”

“Yes, but it is that important to me. I never want to go without trash pick-up again. In fact, if you EVER drop service I get to cut your balls off. Or your penis.   I want you to swear. Raise your right hand—wait, let me get a Bible.”

I insisted he put his hand on the Book to bargain for his private parts.

He smiled and said “I promise I will keep the trash service active until the day you die.”