Cleaning Naugahyde
This month continues to be legendary for its lack of excitement quotient. I've had to turn to human soap operas and rumor mills to squeeze anything even resembling entertainment out of December. I've taken three naps in fewer days. I've been to the dentist twice and subsequently eaten meals that only half my mouth could taste. At least it was different halves. I went to the doctor, a sleepy old man in a white coat, who only managed to confirm my suspicions that my leg would not need to be amputated. I tried to get an oil change, but I'm pretty sure I ended up paying twenty dollars to not have my car stolen. I suppose that's a good investment, but it does nothing for the engine; nothing except keep the engine off the block. I don't know what has been worse the rain or the lack of cold. Decembers should be cold. It's in the constitution. It should be. It'd make more sense than that other amendment "they" are proposing. It's not though, not cold, and not in the constitution, yet. If I'm going to be unentertained, I would at least like to be frickin' freezing while I do it. Nothing says I can accept boredom like trying to get the circulation back in my extremities. Instead it rains. It's like a giant slobbering dog is standing over the city. Go on boy, GIT! And take the first part of December with you.