Another week with our friend Mr. Covid.
I haven't blogged in the past week because honestly, I haven't had anything new, interesting, funny or "made up" that I could think of to put down in words.
Cripes, is the Toyota Corolla virus wiping my mind of all original thought and anything remotely funny and or interesting.
One day feels like another- doesn't it?
"What day is this?"- I ask The Mister.
"Dunno..."- he says, so I ask Alexa.
Thanks be to "all that is holy" for our friend Alexa- even though at times she's a stubborn beotch!
I love shopping for "stuff" and its been months since I've shopped.
No rummaging through vintage shops or antique stores.
No perusing the aisles for nice stuff I don't really need at Winners.
Sadly, these days it's only a quick trip to the dollar store for coffee filters or cleaning supplies.
Then, a dash into Superstore for Pride of Arabia Coffee, my English Home magazine or PC Hot Cross Buns.
But that's it.
Walmart for some pharmacy needs- shampoo, toothpaste and such.
We did slip into a store here on the island called "Buckerfields".
I like to call it Fu**erfields- just for fun!
They have dog and cat treats, garden stuff and an outdoor garden centre.
Last week The Mister and I bought a new yellow rose- highly scented.
A real beaute!
I planted it just below our stairs into the garden and The Mister has bitched and grumped at me ever since.
He claims when he stops, he can't smell the roses.
"Nonsense"- I say, "I can smell the rose from several feet away."
He's asked me to move it.
I say no. A rose laid is a rose played.
He still whines about it every day.
Well it's something to look forward to anyway.
I still say that going through this Covid time is like being on The Walking Dead- without the Zombies. Of course we have a neighbour who I am sure is a Zombie or a relative of a Zombie.
Maybe the undead- which is practically like a Zombie except in the case of a Vampire.
Perhaps even a spawn of Satan and we all know Satan lives because he does all the bad things according to born-again preachers. If he didn't exist these preachers would be asking The Prime Minister for money.
So, pick one. They all fit.
Everyday people shuffle past our house and gardens like the TV Zombies.
There's nothing to talk about. Just the same old same old.
Nothing new to look at- well, maybe our yellow rose.
Not even a new pair of socks to brag about. Of course, that may change this week as BC loosens the constraints of the Pandemic- even though our stores have remained open throughout.
I practically forget what it feels like to sit down in a restaurant and order a meal- and not having to clean up and do dishes or at the very least load the dishwasher when I leave the table.
So that's it folks.
Nothing much happening 'round here.
Oh, there was one funny I heard- nothing to do with me personally.
You may have heard that Little Richard passed this week.
He was a little effeminate.
Okay- a lot.
Okay- a lot.
He was a little flamboyant but boy could be perform.
I loved it when he appeared on the late night talk shows with mascara and lipstick!
He was meeting Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, for the first time.
She had a cigarette clenched between her puckered, blackened lips.
Little Richard pulled the smoking fag away and threw it on the ground.
He looked her right in the eye and said:
"Chile, if God had wanted you to smoke cigarettes he would have built a chimbley on top of your haid!"