I have a friend who was havin some issues in life and he told me the other day, in the most southern way possible, I'm fixin to have a come-apart. Then I don't see him for about four days and I figured that his shit had come apart and he was in jail.
He dropped by today to tell me everything was fine, fixins under control, issues resolved. He had just been hangin low from a second Covid shot that knocked him on his ass. Very interesting, my arm just hurt for a couple days.
So here it is Sunday afternoon in my little house on the creek in Southern Tennessee, sitting at my computer, Piper kissing me for treats, thinking about come-aparts. For anyone who has ever had a come-apart in your life, raise your hand. I've had a couple, fortunately they only involved busting shit up, but I've been there. I'm so glad my friend is not in jail.
Also, thinking about Jess, her baby girl waiting to make an appearance. And life in general, what the hell am I doing other than walking a lot, working out and eating like a California hippy? My evenings are spent talking to my cat with soft humms that emulate hers while she emulates mine. We had an amazing conversation last night, her sitting in one big black chair, me in the other...