Not long ago a man left a nasty little comment in my comments section calling my blog piece sophomoric and trite and something else I can’t remember and why this person was so unevolved as to blog-roam and drop his little bomb of negative energy on my page is beyond something I care about, really, although at the time I was annoyed, so annoyed, in truth, that I took his email (a silly email with his name and THE THIRD in it, not Jr. or Sr., but THE THIRD) and subscribed him to several pregnancy sites that would promptly be checking in with him to see how his first trimester was going, if he needed Dr. So and So’s bottle nipples, all-cotton diapers, Butt Cream, etc. And then I deleted the blog piece, not because I agreed with his comments, but because the piece had a fine layer of scum on it and needed to be wiped down and it will reappear eventually, without THE THIRD’S comment, of course, and hopefully THE THIRD has gone back to Goodread’s, where obviously he belongs (with so many others who feel entitled to critique without manners or explanations beyond this annoyed me) and will never visit my nicely swept and cared for doorstep again–because, really, what’s the point? Doh!
I hear rain on my roof, finally come to kill some dust in this desert/valley. That’s either the dog snoring or the rumble of a distant semi truck. The creamsicle cat stretches in his sleep. Even the conure is quiet. This flu of late is receding, so much so I can see my manuscript again.
Away, murk! So much work to be done. And, mostly, a reading this Sunday to prepare for. Right on.
Yours in fought-for clarity,
P (zinc and vitamin C’s) B