Alrighty then...

The clock says it's just after 8:00am, which really still kinda means 7:00am in the scheme of things in the outside/animal world, so that's where I'm headed.
Both guys are still asleep. I think the dope who usually just haaaas to wake Eric up on his one day off is already feeding the cows, so I'm hoping I'm safe to leave the house. (I'm just gonna go on and post a "Touch this door and die" note up when I go...screw it.)
The sky is this pearly, silvery gray color and the birds out there are going apeshit with the singing. I've got the kitchen window wide open and I'm not cold and it smells sooo good.
I've got the Bee Gees loaded in the CD player and I'm already almost completely dressed. Still need to throw on the barn boots and a heavy shirt with huge pockets for all my shit (cigs, cell phone, CD's, CD player, lighter, etc...lol), then I'm outta here.
I hope I see critters. Lots and lots of critters. Don't care what kind..just alive is all that matters.
Just once I'd like to catch sight of the raccoon that leaves tracks the size of a medium-sized dogs paw prints. I'll bet he's huge and gorgeous. Just hope he ain't too fast...like me, in barn boots and mud, ya know? Lord, let's not even go there, okay? Although, being chased by an annoyed raccoon could be some gooood motivation to RUN!!! (As in 'my JLo ass off'...)
Look...if I hafta run, I'd just as soon be chasing Bret Hart or Micky Dolenz. I'll even still wear the barn boots (which, by the way, ain't those namby-pamby shoe things...these are nearly knee-high, psuedo-riding boots lookin' things and hea-vy..). All they'd really need to do is walk a little fast, then.
I can VIVIDLY remember this one time I tried that running shit. I was going from a small branch bank, across a small grassy area running right alongside Rt. 40, at the intersection where the Richmond's Ice Cream place and the gas station are. I had parked at the gas station, did my shit there, went to the bank and decided, like a moron, to run back to my car, 'cause it was cold.
Well. I ought not to have done THAT.
I was wearing boots, of course...Harley Harness boots, to be exact. The ground was frozen and not exactly like a golf course, ya know and I wound up doing what musta looked like some kinda fucked up combination of a somersault and a cartwheel and landed flat on my back...right along side Rt. 40, mind you, with about 42 cars lined up at the light.
I just laid there and covered my face with my scarf, til the light changed, all those people in those cars quit laughing and left.
I wasn't hurt, but, Gawd....
Every bit as much as Leif Garrett knows that he was made for dancin', all all all night long...I am also certain I was NOT made for running. Ever.
Not to even mention that shit is what killed Mr. Jogger-Dude, Jim Fixx.

Soooo...off to engage in some kinda of forward locomotion process that doesn't involve speed...("Everybody's doin' a brand new dance, now..C'mon Baby, do the Locomotion...")

Yeah. I know.
Sometimes my brain scares me, too.

Peace.

Posted by: Stevie at 08:24 AM

Comments

1 You fell down and just lay there in front of all those people...and they laughed!? No-one tried to ascertain if you were ok/needed assistance!? Some cold-hearted folks...!

Posted by: Mike at April 05, 2004 10:18 AM (ViBAD)

2 we have a couple of raccoons that come visit us (and help themselves to the cat food buffett... pigs), and one of them, i would bet, is close to 50 pounds. When she stands on her hind legs, her head probably is as high as my waist, and i'm 5'7".

Posted by: pril at April 06, 2004 10:35 AM (M+Wmd)

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