SUNSETS AND FRAGMENTS OF RAW REALITY

I've been in a very deep depression for an extremely long time. My increasing health issues and the infinite complexities and inconveniences of rural living presently have me teetering between a nervous breakdown and intentional death.

No need to worry - - I've survived far worse things than this. I'm just not in the mood to be cute, funny, congenial, or social. When I'm depressed I retreat into my own private cocoon - which is the most comfortable place to be.
Some might find that difficult to understand.

Blogging is a useless, worthless, thankless diversion that appeals to armchair exhibitionists.
People love you when they agree with you
abandon you when they disagree 
and forget your name five minutes after you die.

I used to blog to please others - which is a very serious mistake. Now I blog to convince myself that I'm still alive......among other selfish purposes.
You're merely a curious interloper in my private domain.

I'm not always pleasant or congenial or easily understood - - but neither is the raw reality of life. 
I was never ever mainstream. 
I've marched to the beat of a different drummer as long as I can remember.... 

It's probably a mistake to unleash too much of oneself, but my writing always reveals the real me. 
I don't claim to be St. John or Mary Poppins.
 Candy kisses, sugar-coated rainbows, or inspiring quotes from Kahlil Gibran aren't my style.

Let's change the subject.
How about sunsets? They've been beautiful lately:
glorious reminders that the weary day is finally over and blessed eternal rest awaits.
That's morbidly poetic.

How about verdure gone rampant?
The result of three months of rain. 

If this were your yard, would you panic?

I panicked (slightly) on Monday morning when I woke up and there was no water. I had planned on driving to town but was forced to scrap it.
Called the utility company. They were working on the pipes.
It was 90 degrees that day.
I had no water, no milk, no soda, no juice. No liquids of any kind.
Breathed a Big Sigh of relief when the water was turned back on at 7:00 in the evening.

So I drove to town on Tuesday. They put in new gas pumps at the place where I get gas (petrol, for those of you in Liverpool).
It took over five LOOOONG minutes for me to figure out how to use them.
Am I really that inept??

After four looong months, Walmart is still in Plague Mode. It's a futile exercise in complete insanity.

I parked by the garden shop, convinced that it was finally open. The gate was wide open. I was met by an ancient ghoulish employee wearing a mask, who informed me I had to use the front entrance.

So I walked ten miles to the front (very slight exaggeration). Almost passed out from the heat and my ravaged back.
Ever since the onslaught of the Plague, Walmart has been an extremely dismal and depressing place to shop.
Or even more dismal than it always is.....

Masked, surrealistic cretins wandering like somnambulists around the store....

I have a strong feeling that Walmart - like most of America - will remain in Plague Mode the rest of our lives.
Don't doubt me.
It's the new highly appealing norm.

I always breathe an incredible sigh of relief when I get home.....
but....

How would you like to drag dozens of grocery bags from the car, up a hill, and through this mess??
(I always use the back door, where the kitchen is)

There's a "path" here, somewhere (that's the garage on the left).

I get mercilessly attacked by wasps and bees along the way.....and ALL of the bushes have thorns - which rip the plastic grocery bags and shred my clothes.

It takes an hour to drag in all the groceries. I always bring in the perishable stuff first.....and say "to hell with the rest".

I've given up long ago. I don't give a rat's royal ass about anything anymore.

I got a migraine after I came home on Tuesday.

By the way -
late last night there were gunshots alarmingly near my house. Scared the jeeters out of me but the shots didn't last long.

At least the cats are content. They (finally) have food and water.

 

Scratch

Bosco  

I have plans for future blog posts - -

you'll like some

and you'll undoubtedly hate some.

Hell, that's part of my charm.

BTW-

Glad to know that a few people appreciated Greta Garbo. Thanks!!

SUNSET IN FRAGMENTS

One drawback of being surrounded by trees and hills is that you can never get a good view of a sunrise or sunset.

These majestic displays of nature are almost completely obscured when the trees are lush with leaves.
During the lean and naked winter months, I manage to see the sunrise and sunset in fragments.

In the back of my house, which haphazardly faces east, I can see the rising sun peeking through a thick clutter of trees.
In the front, which sort-of faces west, I can catch glimpses of sunsets. 

I took these photos last evening - thinking they would be spectacular.
Unfortunately, they are mediocre - but suitable enough to fill an empty blog post. 

I'm savoring this unseasonably mild weather, which is supposed to end abruptly on Friday. 
And I'm dreading the fact that I have to drive to town this week. I'll probably go on Thursday, while the weather is still agreeable.

Much like the sunsets, my entire existence seems to be in fragments lately. 
Fragments and shreds.

Views from the front porch

DEJA VU

You're very fortunate that I haven't had time to write a post about the recent Oscars.

I hear a collective sigh of relief.

But I might sometime in the near future.

Groans of abject disgust.

Until then, I'll continue to brighten your lives with the intensely boring subjects that I've rehashed countless times before: sunsets, cats, and life in the harsh and unforgiving wilderness.

After a few glorious days of beautifully mild weather, winter decided to return and bite Tennessee in the ass. At least in my area.

A rude, cold wind started blowing yesterday at sunset - drastically dropping the temperature and inspiring snow flurries after midnight.

The sunset was so impressive that I grabbed my El Cheapo camera and ran out onto the front porch to capture the lovely scene while it was still ripe. 
Unbeknownst to me, Bosco and Scruffy (the cats) came out, too. 

After I took the photos, Bosco obediently came back inside (like he always does) and Scruffy went down the front steps and disappeared (like she always does).

She was gone all night - when the temperature was dangerously low and the frigid wind shrieked. To make matters worse, she has a bad cold with coughs, sneezes, and ample snot.

The last time Scruffy pulled this disappearing act she took refuge under the house. My only consolation was that she would do this again. Nevertheless, I worried all night and kept going outside to call her.

At the cold crack of dawn I went out again and kept shouting "SCRUFFY!!!"
so loud that it reverberated in Kentucky.
Finally, the wayward feline came out from under the back porch.

Nothing's better than a happy ending.

 Scruffy

Post script:
A special thanks to my cousin Nancy who drove all the way over here on Monday to check up on me because neither of my phones were working.

Here are some sunset photos from last evening: