My enthusiasm for walking in public parks ceases when I’ve had to truck (bagged) dogshit into the bin.
I’d been enjoying the break in the rain, up in Hilda AVENUE park, hullo Burnaby, can’t even get the park sign right, took a walk, took my pickerupper, and was ridding the children’s play areas of nasty sharp bits of plastic, candy wrappers and cigarette butts and feeling might’ pleased with myself and then something that looked like it came out the hind end of a golem living on dog food was sitting there in a thin pink plastic bag. I binned that and what I’d collected and I dragged my ass home. People suck.
We did a shop, got milk and a few other things.
Another very lazy day, except I made weird pizzaâ„¢ for supper mostly so I could self-calm by eating raw bread dough and cooked myself up beef strips with onions and Peggy’s tomatoes with a tiny amount of taco seasoning for breakfast and damnation it was fine. Now I could have cold pizza (fresh chopped tomatoes, bocconcini balls, fresh chopped onions and scallions, capers, chopped olives) or oatmeal, let me think on it.
Indi Samarajiva said Collapse is just a series of ordinary days in between extraordinary bullshit, most of it happening to someone else. That’s all it is.
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