That’s not to say there isn’t a fair share of idiocy down here. That seems to be a country-wide problem from this perspective…
For example, Craigslist: Three times now I have been on my way to pick something up that someone notified me that I could come pick up. Three times now I have arrived to find out that, “Oh, someone else came before you,” or “Oh, sorry, I ended up giving it to my neighbor.” The all-time pissed-me-off-to-all-high-heaven clincher? “Oh, it was right here. I guess it’s gone now. I don’t know what happened.”
Seriously? What the flying fuck?!?!
Regardless, I have made myself quite a humble home, sans a few comforts I’m dying to have and cannot yet afford (i.e, area rug in the living room, bookcases for my books, internet…) But all in all, it’s not a bad life. I’m tanner than I’ve ever been this early in the summer, I have a job and a roof over my head, and there’s always something to do less than ten minutes away (and is usually very cheap or free). Ergo, I’m not complaining…
One item of idiocy that does seem in greater supply here than back home is Jehovah’s Witnesses. Granted, the flyers and pamphlets make for great puppy-training materials, but to be disturbed at least once a week by this watch tower magazine, that church service… It’s enough to make one want to claim devil worship as soon as you hear a knock at the door!
Speaking of puppy training material, I know that not all of you, dear reader’s, are friends with me on Facebook, ergo you haven’t met the newest member of my family:
This, dear friends, is Gizmo. All of one pound, two ounces at nine weeks old, he’s the calmest, quietest, sweetest little teacup Chihuahua I think I’ve ever had the pleasure of owning—of course, he’s the first AND last Chihuahua I ever plan on owning. Not that I plan on using him in one of my devil worshiping ceremonies or anything—perish the thought! But when you fall in love with a runt, well, you just kinda have to accept it, adopt him, and move on (proving, in a weird way, that you can fall in love with even the least-likely candidates…). Hawthorne is adapting better to this than Beaux, who still can’t seem to decide whether Gizmo is:
- something to play with,
- something to eat, or
- something to avoid,