Boredom Therapy

In the midst of a series of rainy days, it was quite easy for general malaise to become boredom, then all-inclusive griping.

What was there to do? Watching paint dry wasn’t possible. Grass and mold continued to grow with each passing shower.

Griping was something, once started, had no end. Last year, continuing into the current year, my laptop developed issues. Frustrating to me–summarized, in chronological order.

6-1-17: The craziness continues. Can’t search, even from home page.

8-5-17: Wi-Fi quit working–Oh, what fun!

8-6-17: Cooling system problem. Warning–return for servicing.

8-9-17: No internet. 8-15-17: Slow internet.

9-12-17: Still stuck in mud. 9-14-17: Ditto. 9-15-17: More of the same.

9-19-17: No home page. AOL briefly came, then went kaput.

10-23-17: Updated internet security, then everything went wonky.

10-26-17: After security update, frequently visited sites, couldn’t be visited. They’re suddenly not secured. Perhaps I should contact Mark Zuckerberg, as suggested, ask him to update FB security, so my laptop will work properly?  Fat chance of that happening.

11-13-18: Couple of days of reasonably good internet.

12-3-17: This laptop may as well be a brick–can’t access the ‘net.

4-20-18: Internet down since 3 PM.

4-28-18: I’m on line, I’m off line–which was it?

6-26-18: Overheating issue repaired. Slow internet, on fringes of wi-fi unchanged.

8-4-18: Sketchy wi-fi, but no searching.

8-7-18: My old friend “invalid network configuration” popped up out of the blue.

8-14-18: Briefly accessed entry page. 8-15-18: Entry page accessed even more briefly than night before.

I should explain–my laptop functioned normally in the house. Why did I put up with such difficulties? Challenges never stopped me before.  Maybe complaining had the cathartic effect I needed?

The Melody Of Life

The Wichita alignment
Was practically useless
Blinded by headlights
The entire mushroom army
Couldn’t fix this traffic mess
Time of day, weather delays
Not what you wanted to hear–you say
Not kitten on the keys cute
The psychopathy of the situation
Post-Holiday, Mardi Gras
Valentines day, Winter Olympics blues

The “Ick” Factor

The “ick” factor influenced everything. What determined the degree of “ickiness?” It wasn’t written down anywhere, and could change at any given moment.

Some of it had to do with maturity. What was icky at age six wasn’t necessarily icky at age fifteen–or vice-versa.  Things could change from icky to not-icky and back again at any time.

Anything could be icky. Certain disliked foods could be icky. Unpleasant tasting medicine could be icky.  People could be icky–especially if they had icky habits. Of course the accuser’s habits were exceptions to the rule.

Bugs, worms, slugs, snails, snakes and other creepy-crawly creatures could be considered icky. Of course there were exceptions. The non-squeamish tantalized the squeamish–especially if they publicized their squeamishness and made scenes.

There were those weird kids on the school bus. The ones that caught flies and ate them for attention.  They weren’t lacking dietary protein–that anyone could tell. I won’t mention any more examples, because they would send sensitivity meters off the scales. Only to say, that as icky days go, this has been one of the “ickiest.”

Remorse In Paradise

Guests without time to waste
Pirates, poodles, pekinese
Assigned blame, aimed to please
Blocked doors, grocery stores
Their mamas in bad moods
Whacked them with wooden spoons
Upped the ante
Five minutes more
Five minutes here
Five minutes there
But, nobody cared
Caveats, stipulations
She knew what to do
In these situations

 

Standing In a Stream (Of Consciousness)

Pale skin
Weak sunlight
Clocks without hands
Ships without rudders
Burgers without buns
Fun, beyond legal limits
Chicken Littles, peanut brittle
Log in, or get out?
Minor quibbles, put out to see
Oh, for the love of pancakes
Word of the year, word of the yawn?
Deflated Santas, compressors hissed no longer
Why? Because the congeniality well dried up
Have another cocktail weenie

Ring-a-Ding, Ding

Ring-a-ding, ring-a-ding, ding, ding go the Salvation Army bell-ringers.

What’s changed this Holiday Season?

Political punditry–the election ended yesterday. Today, the ashes are falling.

Political pundits do what they do best. Make claims and disappear till the next election.

Let the blame-games commence.

Enough about politics. A couple of years ago, I alluded to a warped version of the “Twelve Days Of Christmas.”

Here are more verses, in addition to, “Seven white-tailed deer,” “eleven discarded beer cans,” first and  third verses–“a large front-yard hole, left by the utility company, where no hole used to be,” “Three decorated mailboxes.”

As for the rest of the song–there’s always next year.

Torn Mental Notebook Pages

Feather bolsters

Sea monkeys

Dead armadillos

Cuteness overlords

From the social stratosphere

Propped on front yard mental blocks

No swim zones–surrounded by water

With best of everything, and no money

Phenomenons learned from lemons–without limits

Never volunteered, never admitted to anything

Yellow-bellied cowards–stared

From jalousie windows

Got the blues–their compassion

Eaten by moray eels

Didn’t care for salads

Meat, meat, more meat

Potatoes, potatoes, and more potatoes

Until they were all starched up

Played mental games

With sock-monkey puppets

Finished against head strong winds