  Sly and the Family Stone - Hot Fun in the Summertime So, I may be doing too much with a formerly broken/reconstructed ankle. The wound of which is still slow in healing in one spot. Three grocery stores later, I came home to rid the condo of any remnant of dust or dirt.
At 1300sq.ft. with 3 bathrooms, thats a lot of doing. Oh, and the garden work. Lord, Is tired. Such an incredible summer day with soft breezes keeping my east county pad nice and moderate. And the place looks amazing too, down to a vacuumed set of stairs and smell prevention in the cat-piss den of iniquity.
Nice to engage in a comprehensive clean-up brigade without the manic rush I used to feel. Where I couldnt sit down or slow until everything on earth was scrubbed to a brilliant shine. A shot out to my 15 pills a day for that. Plans to play with the girls tonight. A drunken scene of debauchery, no doubt. I stocked the fridge with everything from fresh cherries, raspberries, blackberries to four kinds of beer and fresh fish, pork chops, and basil and garlic brats. A shopping marathon to give the refrigeration something to think about. And as usual, theres blood all over the floor. Me and my high tolerance for pain yielded exactly three places on my feet where my efforts met faults in the execution. How many times have I had to scrub up droplets of blood from the kitchen floor maybe four times in the past two months?
A word for the shoppers at the Vista branch of Henrys market: There are other people on this earth, and most of them arent interested in waiting for you to decide what product in the aisle you should buy. How about working on a habit of moving your fucking cart to the side so others can get past you? I think I said excuse me or moved someones cart for them about eight times before my angry side took over. The last cart I moved, I nearly picked it up and placed it out of the way. Am I the only one who has been raised to be hyper-vigilant about how I impact those around me?
Ma-donna! Im beginning to believe this is so. Then again, how much energy do I waste trying to calculate a measure of my presence outside of my house? Its Miller Time. Guinness and Red Hook ESB on the menu first. Then to call the pals to see what the plans are for tonight. Id so love to cook for them already. Those bar tabs we ring up are ghastly. If I can put down six Long Islands and still kick mens asses at pool, what does that indicate?
Besides alcoholism, ok. And no, I dont want to have to pay for cab fare tonight either. A new and immaculate condo is enough of an outing as Im up for. These girls will end up eating (vomit) fast food without my kitchen savvy. So American. Consciousness of where I live shown clear this afternoon as I surveyed the bounty of goodness in said grocery stores. An empty Ralphs with the wide-angle expanse of dairy and juice made a perfect picture for a postcard to Iraq.
All neatly faced, all brightly lit with wasteful electricity The joys of being an American never ceases to amaze. And I live here. 
