It almost makes me wish I’d been delivering some hefty expensive cargo and been getting paid for it. But those days are long gone. Now I only do stuff because I think it’s the right thing to do, and often carry a lot more junk with me than I really need. I’m just amazed that I could actually sit there twice for about 14 hours each.
If I ever do it again, I want to do it in a 2010 Dodge Challenger SRT8 in Hemi Pearl Orange. With a new factory stereo in it. Because I think I blew the speakers in the first half Wednesday afternoon. Too much wind, too old components. Suddenly it just went "blap blap blap blap" and I knew.
Just now I finished off the last two of the dozen plain cake donuts I picked up on the way around 1PM. Now I have a splitting headache and I wonder if there’s really peace in death, or if I’ll just keep coughing my darn fool head off until I get a concussion or some debilitating brain fog.
I am always glad to see the kitteh whenever I get home. This kitteh sure tolerates me going on these unlikely adventures. She seems to know how they all end up: with her daddy petting her fuzzy little head. Some lap time with her daddy. A little walk outside where nobody bothers us. She lays down on the concrete next to my chair and waits for me to realize she’s there, and get up, or something.
People don’t seem to understand that I could retire now and still afford cat food. Those little blue eyes tell me everything I need to know. The kitteh always wins. This is the zombie kitteh that ate my brain. Go ahead, kitteh. I barely need it to get by any more.