Because I say so, listen to this while you read:
Y’all, I moved to Texas two months ago and have felt exactly like this every day:
Our closing was postponed by 5 days while our possessions were on a truck along with my suitcase, because I AM A GENIUS. During that time we had the Mother-in-Law staycation, while we were homeless because all of our possessions were on a truck and we couldn’t close on the new house yet because we hadn’t closed on the old house. During MILStaycation, I had exactly two McDonald’s apple pies, two TCBY mint chocolate chip shakes, a bunch of sunflower seeds, 42 cups of coffee (half were iced), and bites of ham and cheese. That was my diet for a week. Super health nut, I know.
And so, we moved to Texas. Three children, one husband, and one basset hound, The Honorable Former Judge Lucille Brown of the Great State of Mississippi. This is the house.
It kind of looks like a painting, but it’s real. I have real landscaping with real roses and oleander in the backyard. I have a courtyard that I can lock, so no one can actually come to my front door if I so desire. Suck it, trick or treaters.
Here are half of the light switches for my open concept living/kitchen. Yes, I’ve been watching way too much HGTV and I have open concept everything in my home. And granite and wood and tile floors. Just once I want the people on House Hunters to say “UGH! Granite countertops?! I want butcher block counters and wall-to-wall linoleum, textured wallpaper and all vertical blinds.”
Like I said, we have a dog. She’s a hound dog. We got this note stuck in the gate of our courtyard after being in our new neighborhood for one week.
First, I do not respect someone who writes in Arial and prints a note to a neighbor in landscape mode. Yes, let me adjust my seven-year-old hound dog’s morning routine for you. Is there anything else I can do? Do the tiny yippy dogs not bother you? Just my hound dog? And, she did not howl for 30 minutes; I am home every weekday until 7:40 and I would never let her howl for more than a couple of minutes. Also, I do tutoring for English/Grammar if you’d like to drop by. No, I don’t – I hate people, but seriously – it’s called proofreading.
Because we are such wonderful pet owners, we decided to adopt a kitten. Actually two kittens, but one died due to Fading Kitten Syndrome. I promise I am not making this up. This is the kind of shit that happens to me because of course it does. This is F. Catz Fitzgerald.
We adopted Fitz the day before Easter. Guess what? There was a note waiting on my car when we happily carried the kitten to come home with us. Texas hates my guts. Texas couldn’t hate my guts more if I punched the ghost of Ladybird Johnson. The Ghost of Ladybird Johnson is my new band’s name, by the way. Here is the note from the person who hates my parking.
Yes, they wished me a happy Easter and drew a picture of what may be a happy sun. You should know that I was parked far away from any other cars in the parking lot and there were no other cars around me when I returned to my car. I do not understand the Texas Notewriters, but I suppose I need to carry stationery in my car just in case. Hell, I’m putting one of my typewriters on the dashboard, baby. Y’all are going to get real notes – and I’ll sign them with my name, not anonymously as if I’m writing for the greater good of society. Bitches. Of course, I’m not going to do this because I’m in Texas and everyone has a handgun, shotgun, and grenades in their trucks and I’m afraid of them. I mean, THIS is an ambulance.
Really, this is around the corner from my subdivision. Everything in Texas is on steroids. It’s not that things are bigger, it’s that they’re on steroids and have major anger issues. As well as other issues. Even the art is angry. What do you expect when this is a painting in my new favorite restaurant?
More later. Working on some random thoughts. There are many.
Edit: in my foolishness, I forgot to mention that the name of my town is HUMBLE. AND THAT IS IRONY, ALANIS.