Perhaps evidence that I'm not as genteel (as that lezbo said in the bar that night) as I appear to be. If I were a blind person and, say, it was 4PM, the appointed time for my seeing eye dog pal Rocky to poop I would state so thusly:
Tell me when it's 4PM so I can walk Rocky to take a dump/shit/poop.
Contrast with how an actual blind person said same to me yesterday, in a very soft voice.
Please tell me when it's 4PM. He seemed anxious about this so I asked why.
Well, he said, Rocky was trained for a whole year before I got him and he's so trained that he does his business exactly at 4PM.
Business.
And, being like I am (non-genteel) I asked, So what happens if Rocky isn't ready?
Oh, he's always ready at 4PM, was the big steaming answer.
Today, shooting sports second day in a row at the same tiny college I saw this guy and Rocky again.
It was 345PM.
I said, HI, it's Nancy, we spoke yesterday. It's nearly 4PM!!!!!!
He said, Oh we took care of business a bit early.
I think he's fucking up all that special training.
I amazed myself today by becoming so lost in the suburbs/exurbs that I drove for I think an hour in that condition. I saw a thrift store and pulled into the lot.
Almighty God in His Infinite Thrift Store Wisdom wanted me to find this item and that's why I was lost:
an ashtray featuring a small Chinese tot (clothed) perched at the edge of the ashtray as if the ashtray were a giant pillow with indentation for ashes and butts. It's painted a complicated swirling array of purples, lavendars and yellows. It rocks.