Laundry Day - No. 2, Anticipation Is Making Me Wait

It’s time for another post of odds and ends. I’ve been distracted – having all of my energies diverted to the decorating of another blog. I’d tell you about it but then I would betray my secret identity. Besides, Blogger’s robots decided I was generating a spam blog and locked me out until at least the end of the business week. Many objectionable remarks spewed from my lips when I found that I could not even edit the layout. That almost formed the basis of my next post but then the angry/whiny thing has been done way too much in the short life of this little internet wall of graffiti.

So good citizens of Earth, I am back. I do have my loyal tribe of regular readers to consider. (I think I may have all of four regularly reading and even commenting.) Today I will simply get a few things out into space.

I am still without work. That’s now been four months.

At least I’m losing weight.

I have all the time in the world to exercise and otherwise tweak and improve me – Nope. Against my religious beliefs, apparently.

Like Jerry Lewis has France, I have my most loyal following in South Africa. I win twice, because:

1 - France sucks which South Africa well knows, and,
2 - I’m not Jerry Lewis.

I win three times because the people I’m hearing from and reading about on their own blogs from South Africa are either sadistic axe murderers disguising their true personalities through fictitious blog posts or really nice people. (I have my suspicions about Luke . . .) A truly wizened man would direct the authorities to keep closer tabs on Helen. Women can’t be that nice; can they?

A related bone of contention – there have been several more visitors than have bothered to comment on anything. I believe that proper blog etiquette includes making even the most gratuitous of comments upon visiting someone’s blog so that they know there are real live people checking them out. Also, scroll down a page when you visit and see if there may have been something placed there with just you in mind. I think people skim too much. Now, on my site that is understandable because I write way too much.

Continuing to write way too much and too much information . . .

I have had a protruding callous develop on my right index finger that became a bunker to hide a small plantar wart from my fastidious personal hygiene regimen. I have attacked it with acid again and again. Finally, today I had enough and declared open season. After a refreshing and seldom performed ritual of a soak in a hot tub (Hey! I shower usually, just so you know) I attacked the weakened structure of that callous with a good coarse metal file. Yes I did. I took that sucker down and hopefully out for good. No underlying bone or soft tissue was harmed in the rasp attack. Why would I do that? Because I am left-handed I have always felt more comfortable playing stringed instruments opposite the norm. Imagine that . . . just another way in which I go against the grain. So the reason I am not a monster guitarist was because that callous/wart was adversely impacting my barre chords. Or it could be I’m not a monster guitarist because I don’t practice. Or, never bothered to memorize the major and minor scales. Or, because every one of my guitars is right-handed or in pieces at the moment. Or, it could be I’m just lazy and undisciplined . . ? Naaah. I’m going to have to go with the wart.

Which brings us to today’s theme of anticipation making me wait. There are so many areas of my life where if the ball had bounced another way the difference would be phenomenal. Now I am not one to subscribe to being a victim of Fate. I used to date her younger sister, Circumstance. I have resigned myself to less in everything. All of my own doing. Nobody’s fault but mine. No big, bad woman broke my heart and left me this way and neither can a big, bad woman rescue me. I had a few small-time pricks trip me or kick me while I was down but none of that has any bearing on right now. I’m just not enthused about the living thing anymore. That’s what it comes down to at this point. I am not in anticipation of any new adventure, experience, relationship or discovery to get me all energized to get up and get busy. I’m waiting on the anticipation without any anticipation.

Pick up the guitar – nothing. Go out and see a movie? Maybe later. Exercise and get myself healthy and happy in preparation for something new? Naah. Dream up some new plan for my future? Why?

Where’s the stimulus? Where are the signs of life? I need to stumble onto something fresh because anything I manufacture seems stale. Maybe I’ll coin a new term for this. How about “postmature” ejaculation?