Is it just me, or has 2016 gone down as one of the most awesomely horrendous years in history? Well, post-plague, post-Hitler, post-mom croaking anyway. It was bad. Can it get any worse? Probably.
I’ve been treated for bed bugs three times, the last time was today. They aren’t all dead. I fully expect a bed bug or two to outlive me, enjoying the last flowing drops of my lifeblood on my death-bed. #Optimism.
Philippe, my cat of 15 years, died in the early morning hours after Mother’s Day. A friend kindly offered to allow me to bury him in her yard among her feline deceased. I wrapped Phil’s mortal remains in a sheet, taped him up in a box, placed the box in a vinyl laundry bag, and boarded the bus for her house. No one knew on he bus, but someone was singing Amazing Grace, a funeral favorite in my family. #Icantmakethiscreepynessup.
And well, Donald Trump got elected. I just knew he would. Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe it will just all be a real hoot. Maybe under the narcissistic, sociopathic facade lies a heart of gold. #Seigheil.