Here’s the story.
1. There’s going to be a distillery in my back yard?! How motherfucking awesome is that?!
2. Could the Butcher get a job there?
3. WTF? Joelton-area? It’s in the heart of motherfucking Whites Creek. My town has a name and it’s not “Joelton-area.”
4. The Fontanel is owned by the Country Music Hall of Fame now? When the fuck did that happen?
I feel like I just want to shut down before Thanksgiving. I’m not really sure why. Some of it is frustration with the shoulder. Some of it is feeling like my parents are going to arrive and find like fifty things wrong and not up to their standards and I’ll have to hear all about it, because the Butcher will be at work. And some of it is that my other brother is going through a rough patch lately and I feel terrible and helpless about it.
Which is my way of acknowledging that I’m just writing this post because the urge I had to just not bother to write anything kind of scared the shit out of me.
I need the pipes to not freeze up, you know? So, I have to keep the faucet open. Even if it’s just this rusty crap coming out.