Fair Warning:
I'm in a rotten mood. In fact, my mood is beyond rotten. If you're looking for uplifting inspiration and unmitigated joy, you're in the wrong place.
My blog reeks with the stench of grim reality.
I'm not sure what unmitigated means, but it sounds impressive.
I've been low on supplies for weeks but never (yet) made it to town. There were torrential rains all last week, which finally froze and turned to snow on Friday.
I'm not about to make the perilous trek to town on slick or icy roads.
Mother Nature's warm and assuaging breath melted the snow quickly, but the relentless rain returned yesterday, making it impossible to do anything.
When I heard that the rain might temporarily stop on Tuesday (that's today) I gleefully and frantically made plans to drive to town.
Dry days are so rare in Tennessee, that any possibility of encountering one should be seized immediately and utilized wisely.
With no raindrops in immediate sight, I started out early this morning.
My car actually started for a rare change.
First I drove to my mailbox - which is about two zillion miles from the house. Since the latch on the box is broken, all my mail was a soggy, pasty mess.
I decided to drive back to the house - so I could hang up my mail to dry (am I being funny?) and clean the filthy windows on the car.
Halfway up the hill to the mansion, I got stuck in the mud. That's nothing new. I get stuck in the mud every time it rains.
But I wasn't just stuck.
This time I was Super Glue stuck. When I crawled out of the car I sunk in mud up to my knees.
I should mention that my left knee (still) hurts so badly that I can't bend my leg - which makes maneuvering in four-foot-deep mud rather difficult.
I'll also mention that I was wearing my best pair of jeans and an extremely nice winter coat.
I fell in the mud at least half a dozen times (no lie). Within ten slippery minutes I looked like the Tar Baby in Uncle Remus.
I'm going to be merciful and spare you all the agonizing details, but I will say that it took two hours to extract the car from the mud - - during which time I said things so vile that it would make Satan blush.
Eventually I had to trek up the hill through the mud to the garage, where I got cardboard to wedge under the car tires.
I was so friggin' disgusted after the two-hour ordeal that I went inside, ripped off my mud-covered clothes, and collapsed into bed.
I am COMPLETELY out of supplies. Fortunately I found an extra bag of cat food - but it's a brand that they hate.
Why don't you have groceries delivered to your house, Jon? It would be easier.
Hey, Kemosabe, I don't live in Fairyland. I live in the outer realms of Hell. I doubt if anyone could find my address. And if they did, the delivery truck would probably be permanently lost in five-foot-deep mud and fifteen-foot-high weeds.
I'm going to valiantly try again tomorrow (Wednesday) - even though MORE rain is predicted.
Unrelated note:
I thought my previous blog post about the Oscars was fairly interesting but only about three courageous and gracious people read it. So I removed it. It probably wasn't as intriguing as I initially thought. Perhaps I'll post it again. Heck, who knows?
I'm in such a rotten mood that I don't give a rat's ass what's on my blog.
So, what happened to my recent post entitled Troika?
I deleted it.
Everything was going fine until I watched my new video and was horrified to discover that I misspelled Tchaikovsky's name on the title!!!
This is a rare (not to mention humiliating) thing to occur, since I seldom make musical mistakes.
I not only deleted my blog post, I also deleted the video from my YouTube channel -
which turned out to be a helluva lot of trouble. In order to delete a YouTube video, you have to access it via Creator Studio (Beta) - which no longer works in Firefox.
So - after a hit-and-miss scavenger hunt that took over half an hour - I was finally able to access Creator Studio via Yahoo and I (finally) deleted the damn video.
I kept a copy of it in my video files, so I'll be able to correct it later - but there's no way in hell I feel like doing it now.
I've been in an incredibly foul mood all week.....
which seems beyond the realms of possibility, since I'm usually so sweet, appealing, and unbearably charming.
Don't ponder that for too long. Just accept it at face value.
I'm disgusted with freezing my ass off in this cold weather....of staying up all night to make sure the water pipes don't freeze and burst (again).....of knowing that my next heating bill will be astronomical (despite the fact that this drafty house is always frigid, no matter how much heat I use).
I'm sick of the eternal dampness and limitless mud and the wild animals constantly nesting in my roof and under the house......I'm tired of inventing new ways to dry my laundry now that my clothes dryer stopped working.
And I'm disgusted with all my physical ailments which I never mention on this blog.
Tomorrow (Friday) I have to make the dreaded drive into town and it's supposed to rain all day.
I'm going to bed and take a long-needed nap.
Don't you dare try to wake me.
I'm not talking foul ball. Or fowl bird. I'm talking foul mood. I've been in a dangerously foul mood for a long time. And I have the urge to rant.
I had a few beers today - along with a lethal dose of NyQuil. No need for you Goody-Two-Shoes to worry. I wasn't driving.
I used to be a hardcore lush.
Ever since I moved to Tennessee I'm nearly a teetotaler. Not because I got righteous. Solely because this is a "dry" (or semi-dry) county. In layman's terms it means that the Baptists don't want anyone to drink liquor. Someone ought to tell them that Jesus turned water into wine. He'd do one helluva business here in Hillbillyland.
Anyway, there's one tiny store snuggled on the edge of town that sells beer only for outrageous prices.
You've told us that already, Jon.
Well, I'm telling you again just in case you forgot.
The joy of life in the wilderness is wearing thin. There are times when I'm almost tempted to rejoin civilization.
I said almost. But not quite.
My ravaged back is keeping me from doing things around here. I can hardly walk most of the time.
Run to a doctor, Jon.
I presently don't have any health insurance. And past experience has assured me that most doctors are only good for two things: prescribing pain pills and sending outrageous bills.
A serious aside:
I realize that several of my fellow bloggers (including Geo. and David) have literally had their lives saved by doctors, and I truly appreciate the fact.
As for me: I no longer give a shit about my own life. I have nothing to lose but the ability to walk (if there's any grim humor in that, I can't find it).
Doctors are not all Ben Casey. I could tell you about a frighteningly loopy doctor that I had a personal relationship with (long ago).
But I won't.
This blog post is getting too long but I'm on a roll. Sort of.
All of the purple blossoms around here (in my previous post photos) have died from the recent frost. Only a few scant white ones are left (see header photo).
I always assumed Tennessee was a mild southern state. If I ever knew the winters were ten months long here I would have never came. I should have gotten a clue when I discovered that the state bird is the Penguin.
I thought that was funny but nobody's laughing.
The wasps and bees are vicious this season. I get attacked every time I go outside. And there are a lot of them.
My cat Scruffy caught two lizards lately (in the house). I quickly rescued both of them. Fortunately they were both unharmed. I like lizards.
One more thing before I go:
I've decided to keep the comments on this blog in the "moderation" mode for a little while longer.
I personally hate comment moderation - and I'm sure some people also find it annoying.
I've discovered, however, (thanks to live traffic feed) that a few people who despise me still regularly visit my blog. I can't understand why - except for the fact that I'm irresistible (*smile*).
I think they are just waiting for me to say something that they don't like - so they can gleefully pounce on me again.
It's a good thing I keep most of my thoughts to myself.
