A Fec Day

Not to be confused with an infamous Tiger Day.

9:15: Arrived at work.  Vacuumed, watered the plants and shipped.

12:00: Trimmed hedges.

1:30: Trimmed holly bushes.

3:30: Arrived at work.  Shipped my ass off and made it to the USPS by 5:00.

5:30: Mowed yard in Liberty.

I’ll be 57 years old tomorrow and I’ve never been in better shape, thanks in great part to my doctors.

My Marvel Comics superhero character hauls 39 gal bags of yard waste to the street at an  unbelievable rate while managing his diabetes mellitus.

Spend the afternoon with holly bushes.  I dare you.

My highly developed upper torso comes from pushing a mower for 45 years and raking leaves for thirty, but my greatest skill is bending over.   No one can witness me working in the yard without having to turn away in horror.  It’s simply too much to bear.

Mexicans greet me with the knowing smile reserved for one of their own.

The ne’er-do-wells in Liberty regard me with wonder, having no idea I sprung like a diabolical weed from this very dirt, now barren of all but despair.

I’m impossibly shredded and besotted with Natty Light.

Pop died in ’87 and I bought this house.  For years, I kept up this yard along with the enormous one where I grew up.  Mom sold it some Mexicans and I was finally absolved of that curse.

As a child, I remember being roused early to toil in interminably long rows of unbearably hot and wet vegetables.  And yet my aunts and uncles went about it with cigs hanging from their faces.  Compared to the snowflakes we are producing now, I was raised by aliens.

I submit these aliens, whom I adored, were real Americans, and what we have now are soft and stupid, like fucking cattle.

I stared out the window this morning as yet another asshole drove his unbelievably large truck to Planet Fitness.  No doubt, he was also paying people like me to maintain the lawn where he lived.  I looked over at my ’99 Cabrio and did the math again, just for fun.

The AC compressor is done, but it’s only got 112K on it, and I’ve replaced nearly all the running gear.  The top leaks and the body is shit, but after looking at a ton of old Miatas, I’m gonna drop $850 for the AC.

In the past year at our house, there’s been a whole lot of rediscovering what we love and what is essential to us.  Today, I discovered an enormous pile of vomit, which George only emits when I’m not there.  Thursday evening, Laura sat in my lap for an hour.  I’d been gone since Monday.

People are slowly going insane as the world crashes around them.  I’ve seen things that would blow your mind, and you have too, but there will shortly be no future to remember them.

I’d live forever, if Trump would let me.

I can take all the suffering and pain in the world, one 39 gal bag at a time.

Comparisons to Sisyphus are misplaced, as he lacked access to Natty Light.

Like Tom Brady, I’ve discovered the secret of eternal youth, not that you’d want it. Kraut, Kielbasa and Tater Tots. Trust me on this.

Medical science has never seen such a massive intake of Metformin, Invokana and insulin. I have the pancreas of a twelve year old.

You cannot kill me because I have already died in a thousand ways.

Yes, I’m having something to eat.

 

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