DRINK DRANK DRUNK

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 

GOIN' TO TOWN

I suppose it could also be titled Comin' Home From Town, but that's beside the point.

One of my favorite Mae West movies is called Goin' to Town, but that's beside the point, too.

I've been trying to exude a brave countenance but I'll be brutally blunt:
the long, dangerous drive into town still scares the living jeeters out of me. I've never gotten used to it. The impossibly narrow, endlessly winding mountain roads put the "F" into Frozen Fear. Not to mention those perilous cliffs.

There are times when I procrastinate for a week before I can summon the courage to embark on the harrowing journey. And then I have to be reinforced with two or six beers. Being soused not only rekindles my courage, it makes me drive faster.

Yea, I know. All of you teetotalers are in a panic from reading this. Hell, when I lived in Texas I was drunk continuously. Here in Tennessee I'm only drunk when I drive to town.

I'm making progress. When I first moved here it took me half an hour to drive to town. Now, on a clear day, it takes anywhere from fifteen to twelve minutes - - depending on how often I don't use the breaks.


The worst part is when I happen to get a logging truck in front of me (no passing is allowed). The last time this happened the truck was crawling about eight miles an hour. Took me an hour to get to town.

And then there are the tailgaters. If I'm driving 75 MPH the tailgater will be on my ass going 95. I always pull over when I can and let them pass.

It's inevitably a woman. In an SUV. Talking on a cell phone. With six kids in the back seat.

I'm going to be mercilessly blunt and say something that most men wouldn't dare admit: women are the most aggressive drivers on earth. When they get behind the wheel they develop Penis Power and all of their pent-up hostilities suddenly surface.

This is an innocent generalization, of course. I know that none of you charming female bloggers would ever do this.

Hey, Jon - don't you ever get nasty and aggressive when you're drunk?

Nope. Drunk or sober, I'm a sweetheart. The only time I get aggressive is when I want to get to know somebody better......

Speaking of intoxication, did I ever mention how difficult it is to get liquor here? They only sell beer in one store. At an inflated price. Only beer. Nothing else. I'd have to grow my own vineyard and get my own grape press in order to have wine. 

The Baptists rule in Tennessee (and in Texas). There's a Baptist church every ten feet but no booze. You'd think someone would summon Jesus and demand him to turn the water into wine......

All right, Jon, stop being a wise guy.

I know I've risked losing my blog followers (all three of them). The Baptists are miffed. The women are pissed. Hell, I hope I haven't offended the heathen gays.

I was laughing as I wrote that. My wildly wicked past would make heathen gays look like Shirley Temple.

Are you a heathen gay, Jon?

Let's just say that I'm a happy heathen. 

I was drunk yesterday and I'm still under the spell of the lingering effects of alcohol. It takes a while to wear off. It's nearly 5:00 AM as I'm writing this, and I'm sort of between days. Didn't sleep much and haven't yet woken up......

I finally bought porch paint yesterday and I plan to paint my two porches this week.

Did you ever notice that all paints are carefully categorized and have a specific purpose nowadays? 
There's porch paint and floor paint, ceiling paint, indoor wall paint, house paint exterior, fence paint, cement paint, environmentally friendly paint, rain-proof paint, sunlight-resistant paint.....WTF?????

Does anybody remember the good old days when you simply bought a can of lead-based paint and a brush?

 Anxiously awaiting a coat of paint.

This pic was taken a few months ago. The trees are now lush and green and the weeds are nearly up to the roof.