Wake Up Mister Bozo

This is yesterday.  For those of you who might have seen this posting on Facebook, I have expanded it slightly - might have even edited it just a bit.  We'll just have to wait and see.  It's early.

Before I begin.  The word "just."  I understand the need for Just and Unjust.  I can see that.  But, using it in regular conversation as I did twice above - that is inexcusable.  I first became aware of my dislike of the word back when I was teaching band and going to Friday night football games.  Every game began with the Star Spangled Banner,  2 different school songs {Alma Mater}, a speech about sportsmanship, and the nightly prayer.

As such, I have nothing against a good prayer.  Bring em on.  There for a while - with government interference, we had no prayer.  "Just" a good old moment of silence.  That lasted for a while.  

Eventually, the government turned over in the Judge Department, and prayers returned better than ever.  It was during this time that I began to notice the word JUST in prayers.  Frankly - don't mean to offend here - the word seemed to appear most often in prayers led by good Baptist.  Instead of:  "Thank You, Thank You, Thank You, Protect our boys in battle..."  We would get instructions to God.   "Just protect our teams."  "Just do this or that."  A good preacher could get 5 or 10 good JUST(s) in a proper prayer.  

I betcha didn't know that JUST could be plural  - see above last sentence.  

Anyway, that is just a bit off the beaten path here.  So, I just continue.   Just Yesterday morning  ---------------

I just can't wake up this morning.  it is so hard.  My cell rang & woke me - a number I've never seen.  I closed my eyes and started drifting off again.  4 minutes later it rang again - chimed really.  Different phone number calling.  Bet it's the same person  - SPAM!!  

I own this little rent house in Waxahachie (my son says Waxa-Hatchet).  Every Monday, calls ring to buy it, at a major discount of course.  Doesn't matter that it is not listed anywhere for sale.  Ya see, it is not my Homestead, therefore I pay bigger property taxes on it & anyone who checks records can see that it is not my Homestead.  Thus, it must be for sale.

I believe people go to seminars in Dallas over the weekend about how to become a millionaire in real estate.  Seminars are run by fast glib talking non-millionaires [if you get my drift].  BUT it is so hard to wake up.  The phone calls moved me, but it is so hard to wake up - focus.  GADZ, it's only 10 o'clock.  Stupid phone.  

So, I fall outta bed, & with my eyes only half open I begin to stumble towards the Necessary Room.  The older you become, the more the room becomes more of a necessity at night.  My daughter's big ole basset hound is parked / sleeping in the middle of my path.  That is so hard to navigate with one eye closed and the other still half closed.  I just can't wake.

Logically, why should I?  Been retired 20 plus years.  no plans to leave the house today.  Big morning activity will be helping my wife Brenda Joy to wash her hair { euphemism (sp?) for taking a shower}.  Feed the spouse breakfast.  Read the paper.  Watch news.  Marvel at all the stupidity.  Play around on the computer.  Might do my books, it is close to the first of the month.  Go get the mail.  Fix supper.  Watch TV a bit in the evening - did I mention yelling at the dogs for barking while my wife tries to nap in the afternoon?  read a bit from my lately acquired novel.  More TV & computer games.  It's no wonder I'm so tired & having trouble waking.

No doctor appts this week.  Think I'll try to catch a few extra winks till she wakes.  Goodnight.

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At this point I'd like to explain that I was dreaming when the cell rang.  I do that a lot.  Normally, I cannot remember one dream from another.  It must be because I was awakened out of a deep sleep.  The dream.  For some reason I needed to go to a town about 60 miles north of here - I'm guessing Waco.  I hopped into my golf cart along with somebody else that I cannot at this time identify.  Golf cart!!   I don't own a golf cart.  I really would like to own one.  I know, start a go fund me page and buy me one.                

Moving on.

I jumped in my gold cart and drove the 60 miles to the other town.   I was in the middle of I-35 tooling along.  No problems.  I just sailed along.  Whatever my business was, it ended and we jumped back into the cart and headed south - ON I-35.  No problems.  I even kicked the golf cart up to 104 mph on the way home. No problems.  Then the phone rang before I got home or arrested or run over.  Never bought gas.  Why should I?  It's a dream.  Why 104 mph?  

There is no explaining dreams.  So that's it.  I hope you enjoyed my trip down memory lane...or I-35 on a golf cart.  Did I mention I was driving in the dark?  Do golf carts have tail lights?  Beats me.  I'm still waiting for you to start a go fund me page.

later.  keep smiling.  drive fast.  eat some Kentucky Fried Chicken for supper - original recipe.

m3