Searching for my kryptonite on this early Sunday morning; more rain is coming–after a week of the same. My two dogs are sticking close by my side. Their disappointed stares pierce my heart.
Thunder rumbles in the distance. The sky is angry gray. Ecstatic patio frogs croak with delight. At least the grass and plants will be happy.
My morning started immersed in European gastronomy at the local IHOP–starting with French toast. There’s nothing much in the newspaper–except for disaster anniversaries. Five years since the Macondo Gulf oil well explosion. Twenty years since the Oklahoma City federal building was bombed.
Who in the “H-E double hockey sticks” really cares whether media darling, Kylie Jenner’s hair is pink, blue, or green?
Negative self-esteem used to be the perceived most important problem among children. What in the name of self-indulgence is up with “Selfie Sticks?” Why take pictures of other things? It’s no wonder there are so many narcissists.
More lightning flashes. The electric lights are flickering. How many narcissists does it take to change a light bulb? I don’t care–as long as I’m not doing it.
The rain is here. I must tiptoe, so as not to run afoul of shape-shifting social mores, as defined by social media. There wasn’t a visible sunrise–wishing for a peaceful sunset.