Squirrel Holiday

Squirrelly-pants appears to have taken off for the fourth of July, so no news from squirrel-land.

All I can see out the window is The Black Lagoon—a large above-ground pool taking up most of a tiny, weed-and-dog-infested yard behind us, left neglected all year to become a disgusting cesspool.  I keep expecting bodies to float to the surface.  Even on July 4th weekend, the herd of fat people weren’t out there cleaning up the mess to use the pool.  That’s the mentality here in the Midwest.  No self-respect.  It’s the Midwest American way.

We do get to see fireworks, as the locals have been setting off explosions all around us for days.  We just watch from the windows, avoid the ignorant crowds and smoke, and hope the rednecks below don’t burn us down.  And gaze wistfully at the moon reflected in The Black Lagoon.

There’s not much in national news to feel patriotic about, or in local news to give us much hope for the human race.  It’s hard not to live for the day when we can simply hole up in a small private retreat of our own, which will seem like a luxury.  This state has not been good for either of us, but we make the best of a bad situation, and try not to kill each other in the process.

My biggest regret right now is once again not being able to spend my son’s birthday with him, especially with all he’s going through.  All I can do is wish him the happiest day possible, all things considered, and happier days to come, once the dust settles.

Happy erev Birthday cheers!  To a better future, with bourbon.




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