Wednesday Child is full of Woe

Despite the fact that I make a point of being easy going; despite my oft espoused belief that kindness matters, I am not, nor have I ever truly been, a positive person.

Not at all deeply below my friendly veneer rests a chain smoking, whiskey swilling, cat hoarding old lady in grocery store “suntan” colored baggy knee high stockings and Visa! The Freedom Fabric permanently creased slacks, a flowered blouse with “pearl” snaps and a hair-do that defies both gravity and taste.

As a general rule, I can keep that old coot under control with only occasional and mild outbursts of sarcastic bitterness.

But not always.

Right now, Ouiser (that’s my old lady name, “Ouiser”) is pretty vocal. Every time I write a post it can be effectively translated to “GET OFF MY LAWN YOU DAMN KIDS! AND STOP THAT LAUGHING BEFORE I TURN THE HOSE ON YOU.”

I’m not totally sure why Ousier has decided to take this opportunity to lecture you about the wasteful nature of not washing out and saving your Ziplocs and why now, of all the relatively peaceful times, has she decided that the fact you’ve not got a Kleenex neatly folded and tucked in your sweater sleeve is a good reason to glare balefully at you from beneath her drug store bifocals, but there it is.

So it’s not that I don’t love you, my invisible imaginary internet chickens, it’s that Ouiser needs her mental Metamucil.

In the mean time, I will be rocking on my pixilated front porch, sipping virtual cocktails if y’all want to stop by and say howdy.

I promise not to let Ouiser turn the hose on you.

Probably.

Unless you’re wearing a white tee-shirt, then GAME ON.