This morning, I left the house early, although I had slept in. Sleeping in for me means it was 4:30 a.m.
The prior morning I had awaked at 2:00 a.m. and felt like crap all day. Part of that was because I worked, and the office was cold.
It's worse today. My arms are still and sore, from my shoulders to my wrists.
Anyhow, it wasn't in the morning. Sleeping in until 4:30 was nice. I actually got up about 3:30, took my thyroid medicine (which makes me angry every day) and went back to bed.
I shaved this morning. I don't most Sundays, or Saturdays. If was retired, I'd grow a beard.
I left for 8:30 Mass early, as I needed to get gasoline. The Jeep was on "E". I pulled into the nearby mega station and the pump didn't work. I figured it hadn't been turned on, so I ran into the store to direct the attention to the clerks.
I've only been in the station itself once. It was a few weeks ago early in the morning and there was a middle aged thin guy and a friendly, but not so sharp, young guy working there. The middle aged guy was a hoot. I brought up my snacks for the day, which included some pink "sno balls" and he noted how they used to make blue ones. He thought they had been removed as "blue balls" wasn't appropriate, but was hoping they'd bring back "blue balls". The young guy never got the joke in spite of his repeated efforts to explain it, without explaining it.
"Blue balls, man!"
Oh well.
He wasn't shaved that day either.
Today,. when I went in, the clerks were two enormously fat young women.
Now, that sounds rude, but they were. It's not a crime to be enormously fat, although it sure isn't good for you.
Both of them had all kinds of fishing tackle affixed to their faces. Piercings, as they say.
Now, in a second, or third, rude observation, having piercings if you are enormously fat doesn't make you attractive. Having piercings all over your face never makes you attractive, but having them if you are fat is a really bad look. It's similar to having tattoos if you are enormously fat woman. It makes you look worse.
Having said that, having piercings and being very thin makes you look like a meth addict.
When I came in, I noted right away "the pump needs to be turned on". They both informed me that most of the pumps weren't working. Indeed, they were very helpful on that point.
It was extremely cold, and very windy.
I noted they might want to post a sign on the pumps in that case. I was grumpy, unreasonably so.
They noted they hadn't had time as they'd only been there since 5:00 a.m..
It was 8:00 a.m.
Three hours?
They did have time to make an enormous pile of fried chicken. It was freaking huge. I can't imagine how many chickens had died to make it.
The two men who were there a couple of weeks ago had not done that.
Who buys fried chicken at 8:00 a.m.?
It did smell good, as it was fresh fried chicken.
It reminded me of the song "Sunday Morning Going Down", which mentions fried chicken.
I hate that song.
Oh well. I hope their lives are happy, and I hope too they get in shape a bit.
I went to Mass.
The Priest, on the way out, called me by name. It's not my parish, but I've been going there for months as I live the Priest's homilies'. They don't pull any punches.. I was surprised he knew my name. He's a very good Priest. I'll have to be a less severe sinner.
I'm often surprised when people know my name, as I'm an introvert. Frequently, people do.
On the way home, I stopped at a different gas station. I had to stretch the hose as the person inf ront of me, who was not filling up, and wasn't there, hadn't left enough room. As I was finishing up she showed up. She looked considerably older than me, but probably wasn't, and was wearing pajama bottoms.
People who wear pajama bottoms outside of their houses should be exchanged for Syrian refugees immediately. It's sloppy in the extreme and means you don't give a rats ass how you look.
We don't want to see you in your pajama bottoms.
I ran in the store to get some outdoor snacks. She came back i with some loud drama about how much she had paid, or not, for prepaid gas.
Seriously, even if you have a nearly new truck, if you go to the gas in your pajamas, we really don't care about your over, or under, payment. Put on some trousers.
I went out for ducks.
It soundly have been my dogs first time, but he died about a month ago, poor puppy. He was so lively, too much dog for me really.
I miss him. I'm not getting over his death, even though he was just a dog.
I hope dog souls, and cat souls, go to Heaven.
There were ducks, but the hurricane force winds frustrated me.
On the way out, I had to stop as a horse trailer was blocking the road and the driver, a cowboy, was yapping it tup with a hunter while parked in the middle of the road.. Off to the side, another cowboy was helping a young Native American woman mount a horse. The horse was calm, but the poor woman, about 20 years old, clearly didn't know how to mount it. Frankly, a greener horse would have been dangerous.
As it was, it was charming. The cowboy was concerned and helpful. They managed it, as I drove on, she was on the horse, proud but embarrassed.
Not all that long ago, her grandmother would have known how. That knowledge is lost quickly.
But then, not all that long ago, the grandfather of the cowboy wouldn't have helped. He did.
The whole time, a very young boy stood there with a horse. He's probably ten times the cowboy I ever was.
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