Courage My Love December 28th 2013

Oh I am a random visitor in this outpost of the literary damned. Been a while, quite a while from the looks of it. Let's play catch up. Still the same stupid job, the same house, and the same town. Wow that was easy. Oh here's something new, remember I wanted to be debt free, well that was "consumer" debt free and that was easy. Then along comes the tax man and says, guess what, you can't escape big brother and you owe us $34,000. Fuck me gently. My life is designed for me to arrive at retirement age dead broke. Which come to think of it is not a bad idea, I am currently focused on ridding my self of earthly burdens and logically, money is one of those. Ah well, it's all good except the part where they actually expect me to fill out all those missing tax forms from years ago. Bite the bullet baby, jet do it and quit whining.  Maybe I'll pull an L. Ron Hubbard on them, declare myself a church and avoid taxes all together. Pretty bad when you are my age and your retirement plan includes winning the lottery to survive.

Well, onto now. I am moving. This house is too big, too empty, the yard is too big, the garden is a pain (and a joy). I am opting to move to a 1 bedroom and of course, have to down size. I have managed to give away two beds, a leather chair, a leather couch, all kinds of kitchen crap (like I am ever going to feel compelled to use a Bundt pan again - bahahahaha - NOT). Tons of linens (which is my weakness but I am fickle and always buy more) a TV, DVD and VCR player, oh make that 2 tv's. Once again I am TV free and loving it. A million CD's and VCR (???WTF???) tapes, surprised I don't have any old vinyl laying around. It's amazing the stuff that ends up coming with you on your journey.

Take for instance - well shampoo. How many bottles are in your bathroom? Currently I have seven. Seriously seven bottles of shampoo. Never mind conditioner. Hand lotion - five. Cream guaranteed to rejuvenate your crocodile skin - at least five. Toothpaste? Six. Deodorant? Four. Hand soap? Nine. Don't even mention toilet paper, I could build a Berlin wall with it. If the Apocalypse were to be now, I personally could make my hygiene items last until the next millennium. Talk about mindless consuming, I should be the poster child.  If I have a resolution for the new year it has to be "lighten the load". I refuse to keep accumulating crap. What am I? Some kind of crap magnet? Crap - Be Gone!

And seriously, it is crap. It doesn't make you a better person, richer person, smarter person, kinder person so it actually has no value to humanity, except of course, to make you less odoriferous, which in effect makes you less human, because as you know Humans are an odoriferous lot. Just get on a crowded bus at rush hour, you get my drift.

It is Saturday and I have no intention of leaving the house. I am baking bread, ok I will NOT get rid of the bread machine, which I think is the best invention, since, well, sliced bread! I don't use it to cook the bread, just to mix and knead it. My hands have suffered terribly in my life and are now devoid of strength or purpose, with the minor exception of holding a coffee cup or hitting the button on the slot machine. So I dump all the good stuff in the bread machine, although flour has a bad rap right now, but whatever. Hit the magic button and kapow! There it is... a beautiful bunch of bread dough, all elastic and fine like it should be, just waiting for a bowl to swell up in. Bread is erotic. Never mind the scene from the Postman always rings twice, just handling warm bread dough, smelling the sweet yeasty odour, feeling the silky smoothness of it. OHHH, sorry where was I?

So that is my day, and I'll throw in a tax form or two, maybe scrub a floor, and maybe just maybe paint. I know you can hardly contain your excitement, so how do you think I feel? Bread, like life, takes courage my love.