There is just too much in life these days. Just picking a toothpaste, or even finding the one you've always used, is a ridiculous mindnumbing venture. There are a couple hundred cable channels. And forget the internet altogether. You could spend your entire life in Facebook alone and never see all the sites, pages, info, pictures, jokes and videos.
My latest frustration was in trying to find toenail nippers (they don't call them clippers much anymore). Since my left hip is becoming less and less flexy it's becoming more and more of a pain in the everything to tend to my left foot. So my nurse says, go on Amazon, there are special adapted things for gimps. Well, that's not exactly what she said. She used medispeak of course. Anyway, I go look on Amazon, and before I knew it, half my day was gone, the cat was laying with her head in her dish and I hadn't found any damn toenail clippers that other gimps hadn't railed against my buying.
Nothing was made better by a series of events that started yesterday morning and crescendoed with my legs blowing up to Hindenburg proportions, the toilet overflowing and flooding the bathroom for no reason, the refrigerator giving off a loud death rattle and shudder before dying and then reviving itself mysteriously, and the cat eating part of a rosebush and puking all over the house.
Yes, there is too much. I thought when I left the working life I'd have time. Time to read all the books, paint all the paintings, fart around, party, do nothing. That doesn't happen. When you finish one busy, there's always other busy that comes along. And there's no such thing as farting around because everything takes you so much longer as you get older that there's no time to fart around. If anything, you spend even more time trying to set up ways to get things done in more efficiant ways. Which result in many failed experiments and more time gone with no farting around to show for it.
And where do I even have time for Metal anymore, you may well ask. We all know that a good Metal session means a dedicated 4 hour block of time wherein you sink slowly into the grinding bass lines and rise up to the pointless yet cathartic guitar riffs while airdrumming and scraping your vocal folds raw. This is not easy to squeeze into my non-working life. I don't know why. I used to Metal out regularly back when I had 2 or 3 jobs. Now that my neighbor bitty has gone almost completely deaf the noise isn't an issue. Her phone is louder than my speakers. I have to make time. If you go too long without Lemmy bad things will happen.
Oh, but Stevil came by for lunch on VD and took this photo of the Beest:
And this photo of me surprising the Beest and showing her belly, for which she's not speaking to me:
I don't know. All I know is there's just too much. And now I have a zombie refrigerator that I'll never trust to stick my head in again, a bulemic toilet, and my head is light from huffing all the bleach from the clean ups. And it's 9:40 p EDSFT and I'm wide awake and totally sober. This happens far too much. Changes will be made!
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