Journal 20120425

I add eggs to my oatmeal breakfast and feel not a twang of pain. I patrol the grounds in my hack-trimmed wife beater and cartoon pajama pants, heavy chain wrapped around my shoulders like gangster jewelry. The birds scream profanity at me and I whistle back to call them the motherfucking nest-robbers that they are. Ow! Shit! I really shouldn't walk around here barefoot. I think that is a nail from 1912 sticking stubby from my foot. Do I crazy glue it in? Or out? WTF is Richard texting me? "Oh, yeah, everything is great, sir!" Nothing to see here. 

I wonder if I can work the hedge trimmers with one foot and one hand. Can't wait to see how this works out. The mockingbird takes a small crap on me to voice his approval.

Life in the Big Valley!