America, I just want a very few things.
1. A fool-proof way to eliminate ticks from my yard that doesn’t involve poisoning me and everything else in it.
2. A hat that will fit my gigantic head, so that I can sit on my front porch and read in the afternoons.
3. A logistical way to get to Memphis this weekend.
4. Cake on my birthday.
I don’t know if it’s just the Monday blahs or what, but I’m bummed about my upcoming birthday. In the past, my birthday has been a day of grand adventures that usually ended up with Kleinheider staring uncomfortably off into space waiting for the earth to open him up and swallow him whole. And this year I’m working and renewing my driver’s license. Oh, I know. I should have put a spoiler alert on that.
Ugh. Well, that sucks. I mean, the thing is, I am capable right now of getting each of those things, but the ticks, figured out. The Butcher would happily make me a cake, if I said I wanted one, for instance. It’s not like I’m surrounded by goobers.
I’m just feeling a little like, well, here I am. Now what?
It’ll pass, but it is what it is.