No, really, I’m housecleaning. It’s a long story. But it goes something like this: My excavator friend (I always think if I call them “friends” they’ll charge less – good luck with that) told me that he’d be here today to replace my frost-free hydrant in the barn.
Why is it being replaced? Well, because it froze, of course. In fact, it’s the third one in seven years that has frozen up on me. But that won’t stop them from marketing the stupid hunks of metal with a handle as “frost free.” No justice, no running water. Or something like that.
Being the anxious type, I decided to augment my peering out the window for his arrival with a little housecleaning. I like to imagine the glee from the family when they arrive to a pre-weekend-cleaned house. It erases that all too familiar Saturday morning spat that erupts, if you know what I mean.
But now the house is clean – sans mopping (I hate mopping) – and the excavator guy has still not arrived. And your life is apparently even more boring than mine because you’re reading about my day. Poor thing. But, don’t worry, I don’t keep track of visitors. Don’t know how and don’t care.
I’ve been mildly entertained by the reaction from yesterday’s “Broadsides Exclusive.” Yeah, the Wardinski thing. Sometimes I forget just how small this state is. As in: You fart and everyone seems to smell it – and quickly. It does, however, allow a couple of fellas a chance to interject themselves into the madness from time to time. And while we’re quite serious about the issues, we seem to laugh our asses off throughout the process.
I was alone in my office laughing hysterically when our daughter, Isabel, came home from school yesterday. Yes, she walks home – just like the good old days. I think I scared her a bit, in fact. I had been in Walden cutting firewood for the first half of the day and then returned to make political trouble in the afternoon. I was filthy. I was laughing while writing. And I couldn’t quite explain it.
“I get it, I get it,” she said. “You and Boots are up to something again.”
Bingo. And thanks for not making me explain further. Because it’s just kind of an organic process that needs to play itself out from time to time.
And now I’m still waiting for the excavator — in my clean house. So I’ve got time to surf the web. Look what I found:
My first reaction? Well, what would happen if you put a stupid, white guy in the boiling water? Go, Glenn, go. It would be for science and all…
I don’t know about you, but when I see Beck’s shtick, I can’t stop from thinking about the tele-evangelists from yesteryear who all went belly-up after their fraudulent ways were exposed. Basically, we’re looking at really good (and cheesy) actors, knowing that all they have to do is appeal to the lowest common denominator of intelligence. And that, my friends, is quite the vast audience in America.
Hook, meet mouth, indeed.
Thanks for playing. And don’t forget to laugh.
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