Sitting here for the better part of the evening in utter turmoil with my inner self. Complete bedlam arises within. It comes up from depths never fathomed were even there anymore. Disgust, abhorrence, loathing, indisposition and a hostility that once was under control. Or at least tucked far enough down to not rear its ugly face.
With age comes wisdom, restraint and the art of timing. I’m sure I’ll find a way to constructively beat out these thoughts until I can, with a fine finesse, expeditiously unleash a conglomerate of precisely worded assertions. That’s a check you can take to the bank.
In the mean time, while my inner demons play havoc with innards, I am between writing and laundry. One out of the two are my favorites. Holy feline fecal matter, Batman! Are there enough hangers in this place? This is only a quarter of the hangers. Mercy!
The basket has been around awhile. Back when I was teaching the boys how to do laundry in Tennessee! Holy Moly! That’s been a long time ago! Can’t say I don’t take care of things and make them last. A Dollar Store laundry basket has lasted damn near 15 years. No wonder it looks like a live episode of Hoarders in this video.
Now that it’s nearly 3 am .. I’d better catch some Z’s before the bestest bestie a gal could ever ask for comes bee bopping on in here in a few hours ready to go and I’ll be a zombie. More to come!