Waiting for Number 3
They say that trouble comes in threes. If that's true perhaps I should go ahead and crawl under my desk now and wait for the inevitable.
1. You may already know about the car.
2. Dad's cancer which they thought they might have knocked out apparently evolved instead. Now they don't know if they should do more chemo, remove everything in his throat entirely or offer it voting rights in time for the May primary. (My guess is it will vote Republican.)
Dudes, its only Thursday as I write this. That means I have one more day of work and Saturday to get through wondering what is going to happen now. I'll bet you are wondering what the date has to do with it. I don't know...its arbitrary. I have proclaimed that the third event has until the end of the week to occur or it loses its right to occur entirely.
What else am I supposed to do? I suppose I could ignore it and treat every day as a new and precious thing with no connection to the night on either side. Then when the shoe falls I could just put my fingers in my ears, call it a random chance and go on day by day taking all the other random chances square in the nose.
That sounds way too much like walking blindfolded through a field of rakes.
So stop me, stop me, from giving up
stop me, stop me
from taking the world, oh for what it is
a state of peaceful shit
-Stop Me by The Booze Brothers (One of my very favorite Celtic rock bands.)
"Mildly depressed" can easily manifest as "kind of pissy" in the six. So I can smile a little when the spell checker suggest that "pissy" might be "prissy" or "sissy" misspelled. Smug git spell checker is spoiling for a rumble. The only people that get to question my manhood to my face are me, and maybe my urologist.
