Calamities happen with oft frequency and more often I suspect that being in the mean would be.I stupidly went number two on a paper-clogged toilet and they rose in rebellion; my super turd a dreadnought that threatened to spill over to the floor.I did what I had to; I got a food container and scooped and ran outside like I was in a egg and spoon race except the egg was shit and spoon was the much smaller than I was comfortable with clear plastic tray.I dumped it under the lavender bush, retur
Articles from Harrangue Man
The Monk just landed on me and stole my bag of gold; that's not very mendicant.Talisman!
I ruminate when I ride outside and lately I've worked myself into grief fits every time. It's a mix of hurts, a litany of woe, then it's yelling and angry plinking tears; like from a really shit shampoo.I sometimes catch myself then apply brakes of CBT; or I'll keep riding til it passes and I'm left with the sullen afterglow of losing something I never had. I have all this anger and nowhere to put it.It's balls it is; balls.
... it's a great sword.
We've been letting three of the eight chickens into the garden each day because of a civil war fought over the yellow pekin and consequently there is chicken shit dusting the path between patio and shed. I grabbed a broom from a dustpan and broom set but it's designed for one handed use by normal people. I'm short and I needed to double-hand it to get the right amount of power to dislodge a turd and fling it out of the way.
I am covered in a generous down, save, of course, for the top of my head; my hair has a demarcation line it will not cross.I chucked my morning meds in my mouth and missed with one of them, it plunging down my neckline where it was caught in a thatch of chest hair like a hero off a cliff that lands in a clutch of vines.It was the main one too; the head med that turns acute injury-metastasised anxiety from "YARGH!" to merely "yargh?".It's typical that I'm dusted with all over hair yet for the