Today was one of those rare ones in which I remark repeatedly about how much I love my job. It was beautiful weather for working outside, and the job was one I enjoy. We’re building a deck with a covered screen porch, and the fresh air, cool morning and sunbeams were tickling my fancy.

Then I barked up my shin while moving my extension ladder, and noticed it was still hurting several minutes later. A quick glance confirmed that it’s bleeding, and bleeding things generally hurt. No big deal.

Until the mosquitoes came out. Oh, and when these come out, it’s like a Gay Pride parade – they REALLY come out. This jobsite is in a flood plain (a fact that cost me an extra $170 in permits), which contributes to the population of little bloodsucking bastards. It’s also part of the reason the customer is paying me to build a screen porch – it’s a beautiful back yard, but the bugs are miserable. They are small and black, and have grey stripes (or maybe it’s grey with black stripes?) like my cat. They’re not as cute, though – no purring, nuzzling, or charm among this crowd.

So why are mosquitoes a big deal? Oh, besides carrying diseases – enough to be the #1 killer of mankind among the fauna of earth – their bites are unpleasant. I got two in a row – in the same spot – on the soft white underbelly of my arm, and they raised a bump such as I haven’t seen since summer camp in the ’70s. This had to be stopped. So I reached into my trusty tool bag and grabbed a can of Off. I hosed myself down pretty well, but instantly realized the tradeoff: My shin-wound was uncovered during treatment, while freshly safe from buggy assault, OMMFGithurtlikeaBITCH! Oh geez, I don’t care for that kind of pain atall.

Speaking of bitches, I once frequented a church whose pastor titled a sermon, “Life’s a bitch.”  Some uptight biddy in the congregation counted, and he apparently uttered the naughty word 7 times in the service. The point was, ‘Life’s a bitch, and then you die (per the bumper sticker) – and then comes the judgment.’ It was a standard brimstone-and-fire sermon, and I was pretty entertained by it. But the uproar over the bee word was even more entertaining.

He also said ‘shit’ and ‘nigger’ in sermons (both points, in context, I fully support).*

Yes, he’s still the pastor there (as far as I know).

Today, on a trip to the delectable Bear Rock Cafe for lunch, a truck had an assortment of pretty white rocks on the tailgate. The driver was saving these for sprinkling along the roadway, apparently. I’m guessing he enjoys paying for broken windshields and chipped paint, because he could’t be farking bothered to sweep a few stones off his truck. Plus which, 3 of his 4 rear tires were completely devoid of tread. I would bet money and fame that he’s due to make some poor summbich very unhappy because of shed rocks or retreads. Maybe he’ll wreck his truck and get to contemplate what went wrong.

I almost forgot about it because of the savory sammich and delightful chocolate chip cookie. Almost.

Mmmm, cookies.

The other night I was at Bed Bath & Beyond shopping for a duvet (omg they’re comfy – but 4x more expensive than I was expecting, so they went unbought), and in the checkout (I HAD to have a new chef knife) I grabbed a bag of peanut emenems. They had a pink ribbon on the package, but I didn’t notice until later. I was handing my friend an M, and looking for a green one, but grabbed a pink one instead. My internal editor was on break, for I blurted, “Yum! Tastes like breast cancer!”

Good thing my friend has a twisted sense of humor.


1 “Some of you have told me, ‘pastor, I feel like shit today.’ (pause – gasps) What? You talk to me like that, why shouldn’t I talk to you the same way?”

2 “I hate nigger jokes. Don’t tell me any.”