A competitor is better than me. I am not sure how it happened, but all of a sudden he attracts the customers and while I am still busy -he is busier.
I don’t like the situation, wish I could do better, but it seems I am at my limit.
What to do? What to do?
Looking at restrictions being placed on voting and the lack of restrictions on buying a gun, I have come to the conclusion it is obviously more dangerous to allow someone to vote than it is to buy and own a gun.
I am a light sleeper. I hear unusual noises in the house. I notice the coughing of the dogs, can hear the whistles of the train or people walking by. Every sound out of the ordinary seems to get my attention and my inner alarm system wakes me up.
When has it all changed so much, and why did I not get the memo? When has stand up comedy become so vulgar? When did they start to name the THINGS you should not name excessively and so openly?
It all started with Amy Schumer a while back. She was a rising star on the comedy sky and finally, one night – long after the rest of the world had already known her- my husband and I decided to watch one of her stand-up routines.
“They are right up my alley,” I said, softly swinging from one side to the other in my chair. Shoulder rolling, half-closed eyes, and all the other things this kind of music makes me do. “They have the groove,” I said and my husband laughed.
A Democrat and a Republican meet in Trump’s stomach.
“Did he eat you too?” the Democrat asks.
“No, I came from the other side.
I haven’t heard the joke before. I laughed, then nodded. Yep, that’s how it’s done, also knows as brownnosing, if I am not mistaken.
We are supposed to be back to normal, but I don’t feel normal. Do I ever?
I sleep like a rock, wake up tired and feel congested, but other than that it seems we are ready to move on. I haven’t dressed in two weeks. I mean, yes, I have covered my body with clothes, but pretty much jumped from one pajama to the next. “Leopard is the new black” is my favorite one, it’s so cozy and soft, I want to be buried in it if I would want to be buried to begin with.
It’s day #7 of our self-isolation after my husband tested positive for COVID-19. “Curse words fail me,” I texted to a friend the other day, and while it’s true, we are in good spirit. We managed to put our Christmas tree up and as always, the work was shared fair and square. My husband brought the tree down, which took him about five minutes and I spent three hours stringing the lights and placing the ornaments.
SARS-CoV-2 RNA detected! There it was, something positive this year I didn’t want to hear. My husband went Sunday in the morning to get his COVID test done -part of his pre-op for Thursday’s procedure- and three hours later an incoming message informed us of the unexpected. His test came back positive.
Be nice to yu turkeys dis christmas
Cos’ turkeys just wanna hav fun
Turkeys are cool, turkeys are wicked
An every turkey has a Mum.
Be nice to yu turkeys dis christmas,
Don’t eat it, keep it alive,
It could be yu mate, an not on yu plate
Say, Yo! Turkey I’m on your side.