I've been plagued with the same problem ever since I was in my teens.
You mean drinking, Jon?
Hell, no. Drinking isn't a problem. It's a pleasure. I'm talking about insomnia. Acute insomnia. Tossing, turning, thinking, agonizing, worrying, listening to the grandfather clock chime every hour and half hour from midnight until 6:00 a.m.
By dawn, I'm hanging by my toes from the ceiling while emitting primal screams.
This absolute absence of shuteye happens every time I know I have to get up and go somewhere.
Today I had to make the dreaded drive into town - which means having to navigate an ENDLESSLY harrowing roller coaster track of narrow, winding mountain roads.
Try doing that when when you have a crack in your windshield, and your old contact lenses keep fogging up so badly that everything looks like the coast of Newfoundland at dawn on a bad day.
Why don't you get the crack fixed, Jon?
Because I'd rather spend the money on booze so I have the courage to drive to town.
Why don't you try soft contact lenses?
I'm wearing soft contacts, Kemo Sabe. And I'd have better vision if I wore a pair of x-ray glasses from an ad in a Superman comic book. I'm thinking of switching back to gas permeable.
To make matters worse (if that's humanly possible), the weather was against me.
You mean it rained again?
Nope. The sun appeared. Let me expound:
Here in rural Tennessee it rains nearly every day of the year. The sun is more rare than Hillary telling the truth.
(I deliberately threw that in to piss off my readers).
Today, as I got in my car and ventured out on the mountain road, the clouds miraculously cleared, the sun came out, and the temperature in my unairconditioned Hellmobile soared to 380 degrees.
So, I was not only sightless but also perspiring profusely. Not to mention drunk.
Jon, you're a DOA just waiting to happen.
Well, I wasn't exactly drunk. I merely had enough beer to expunge my apprehension, stunt my reflexes, and inspire me to sing a medley from South Pacific.
By the time I got to the Walmart parking lot, I was sweating like a Tijuana whore during a Saturday night gangbang, and marveling at the fact that I knew all the words to Bali Hai.
Did anything good happen to you today, Jonathan?
Yes! As I was pushing my way through the moping mob of ample-assed, unwashed hillbillies I suddenly saw a sign that brought joy to my dismal existence.
VACUUM CLEANERS WERE ON SALE!!!
I used to have three vacuum cleaners - two massive Hoovers and a small Dirt Devil. These were among the 100 or so items that the movers "lost" when I came to Tennessee.
These marked-down Walmart dirt suckers were a gift from God. I grabbed one.
That left me with no money to buy the new tile for my two bathroom floors, but I'll go back to town and buy that next week. Fortunately I stocked up on enough beer to make mountain road navigation a breeze.
I have more to say but I'll save it. Too much of a good thing can be dangerous.
Oh, one more thing before I go. My cell phone STILL isn't working - - in case you try to text (family & friends). I'll get it straightened out soon.
http://cabinetofcurioustreasures.blogspot.com
I drove to town today and decided that I should probably write about it before the booze and the golden memories wear off.
I'm not really drunk. I simply had a couple beers for courage before I hit the dangerous, winding, narrow, treacherous mountain roads. Okay, I had three beers. Then I took some generous swigs of a daytime liquid cold medicine. Then I took an aspirin. And a few more swigs of beer.
That curious concoction is Minor League compared to the dangerous stuff I used to mix together when I was a kid in California. I'm older now and more conservative.
Anyway, I got up at 8:00 am but wasn't ready to leave until around 11:00. I didn't know what to wear. All my jeans are embarrassingly dirty. Well, all except for my black jeans (which look clean when they're dirty) but I don't wear black on hot days - not even to funerals. So I reluctantly wore my old army pants. And an old army shirt. And my old boots. And an ancient cowboy hat.
If there was a death penalty for beginning sentences with conjunctions, I'd be pushing up daisies right now.
Since I had on old army clothes I decided to wear my dog tags. They were a perfect accessory for my Redneck meets Hicksville attire.
The fantastic thing about living in rural Tennessee is that no matter how outrageously bad you look everyone else looks even worse. This feeds my ego.
If you think driving the dangerous, winding, narrow, treacherous mountain road is bad - try doing it when your back is screamingly painful and it's 95 degrees. And the air conditioner in your car doesn't work.
Then compound that agony with having four gigantic plastic bags of putrid garbage in the back seat. The stench induced hallucinations that would have impressed Timothy Leary. My first stop is always the City Dump. I think it's properly called Garbage Central or some such thing.
Garbage collectors don't make visitations to rural mountain areas so I have to tote my own trash to town. It's a necessary humiliation.
They're no longer called garbage collectors, Jon. They're now Sanitation Coordination Engineers.
I don't know whether today was a holiday, or if Tennesseans simply take the day off when the temperature is over 90, but I never saw it so crowded in town. There are usually about 150 freakin' people in town. Today there must have been 200,000. It looked like Atlantic City on the 4th of July. I can't figure what the hell was going on.
Moonshine convention, maybe?
There were even lines of vehicles at the service station when I got gas (that's petrol, for those of you in Yorkshire).
After I went to the bank, I had to drive to two places to pay my utility and water bills.
Why don't you simply pay your bills online, Jon?
Because I savor the adrenaline rush and profound anxiety that I get when driving to town. I used to pay my bills online when I lived in Texas. It was too easy.
Is this post getting annoyingly long? It's never my intention to ply you with too much of a good thing. Or to annoy you in the process of doing it.
I haven't even got to the grocery shopping part yet. Or the beer part. There's only one place in town that sells beer and their prices are outrageous. Taking advantage of desperate, pathetic alcoholics is beyond sinful.
Well, I got the three essentials that I always need: cat litter, toilet paper, and beer. And enough groceries to last nearly a month. I really wanted to get ice cream but it would have dissolved on the drive home. Instead I got yogurt. The great thing about yogurt is that if it goes bad you can't tell.
You could always bring an ice chest and put your ice cream in there, Jon.
Hey, I'm not the fancy type. Who the hell do you think I am - Martha Stewart?
It was so hot and dry today that it felt like Death Valley (I've been there and thought I'd mention it to impress you). It hasn't rained here in two days which is considered a drought. On the way home, my contact lenses dried out and got incredibly blurry. I could hardly see as I screeched around dangerous curves at 80 MPH.
Jon, you're reckless, childish, incorrigible, and a menace to society.
And that's on a good day. You wouldn't want to see me when I'm bad. You forgot to mention that I'm cute.
BTW, what does "incorrigible" mean?
My other blog is simply an extension of myself, intended to perplex you. Here's the link:
http://cabinetofcurioustreasures.blogspot.com
I'm in a dangerously foul mood and I'm plied with beer. This is fair warning. I'm ready for a rumble.
I don't think "rumble" has been in anyone's vocabulary for fifty years, but what the hell.
And if any of you blog critics still think I'm writing too much about myself, buzz off and go read a boring blog. There are plenty of hausfraus out there blogging about recipes for lemon chiffon pies. Go find one.
The term "buzz off" hasn't been used since Cher was married to Sonny. Which has nothing to do with my age.
I was going to write more Easter crap but I'm not in the mood. I'll save it for later - when I'm feeling mellow and saccharine......
....which might not be for a few months.
So why are you in a foul mood, Jon?
Actually, I'm always in a foul mood but I'm adept at covering it up. When I'm plied with beer my Faux Happy Face dissolves and my evil alter ego comes to the surface. Ready to snap, bite, and rip to shreds.
I forced myself to drive into town this morning. Only because I haven't gone shopping in a month and I was out of everything. Including litter and chow for the damn trio of felines.
Scratch, Scruffy, and Bosco.
Today is Wednesday and - for some secret hillbilly reason that I've never been able to figure out - the banks and all public offices close at noon here on Wednesdays.
So, I had to get my ass in gear and race down the mountainside before noon in order to go to the bank. And I had to pile all my trash in the car to take to the dump. There's no trash pickup here in the boonies and it's an incredible inconvenience.
After all this time I still have NEVER gotten used to the long, winding, perilous, unnerving, harrowing, annoying, incredibly dangerous ride into town.
Did I mention harrowing?
It doesn't get any easier - in fact it gets worse. But I'm used to the curves, and they get smoother and more entertaining after I've ingested a few beers.
And the first person who lectures me on the reasons not to drink and drive is going to get bitch-slapped with my dirty hanky.
I've always lived dangerously and I have no doubt that I'll die that way. Only I'll die a lot sooner here in this freaking cursed wilderness.
I spent 200 bucks on groceries and didn't get half of what I needed. The worst part of shopping is when I arrive home. I live on a steep incline (to put it very mildly). When I park the car it's on an extreme slant. It takes all my strength to shove open the door and crawl out. Then I have to unload all of the groceries and haul them up another very steep slope to the back door.
All the while I'm hauling, I'm slipping and sliding on mud, fighting wasps bees and flies, and getting bombarded with gnats that get wedged in my contact lenses and go in my mouth.
Why do the gnats go in your mouth, Jon?
Because I'm so frickin' out of breath that I'm panting like Rin Tin Tin. My nose is clogged from allergies and sinuses. If I didn't breathe through my mouth, I'd suffocate. And when I breathe through my mouth, the gnats go in.
Why did you ever move to the mountain wilderness if you don't like it, Jon?
I moved here to get away from bastards like you who ask too many questions.
Actually I love it here. I just hate all the inconveniences.
It's suppose to rain all day tomorrow, so I'm glad I ventured to town today.
This has been one helluva gloomy post, Jon. Do you have anything positive to say?
Yea - all my critics are presently reading other blogs about how to make lemon chiffon pies. So I don't have to worry about them bitching about my blog.
and
I'm sure as hell glad I only have cats instead of children. My poor cousin Nancy ....how shall I say this tactfully?.... is presently in....a Family Crises Mode....
and
All the spring blossoms have survived the recent frosts. I've posted some recent photos for your visual delight.
now
I'm gonna take a nap. The effects of the alcohol will eventually wear off and I'll be back to my sweet, cute, sexy, interesting, irresistible self.
I just threw that in to piss off my critics.
Blossoms this morning -
they survived the frost!
