There was no post last night because I wasn’t feeling all that great. It was a combination of the blahs and a slight fever sort of thing. I mean, really, I played solitaire for almost two hours. It was a very sad time in my life. Needless to say, I did no writing or working on my writing or planning for writing. It was a nonproductive evening.
Today, I’m off to the eastside of the state to pick up Tasha’s car and go to a birthday party and who knows what else. Should be a day full of driving and more driving. Sounds like big fun doesn’t it. Woo hoo.
Since I don’t have much for you today I’ll give you a joke, not mine.
A prosperous old dairy farmer from someplace cold finally sold out to the local agribusiness giant and retired to Florida. Being a farmer, he liked owning lots of land, so he had to buy a big place with a large pond down near the swamp. He fixed up the pond a bit, dumped a few truckloads of sand to make a little beach, and kept a small swimming area cleared of weeds and scum. Nearby he had some picnic tables, horseshoe pits, and a stone barbeque. Shading it all was a mixed grove of fruit trees.
One evening the old farmer decided to go down to the pond to check his fruit trees, so he grabbed a five gallon bucket to bring back some fruit. As he neared the pond, he heard voices shouting and laughing with glee. As he came closer he saw it was a bunch of pretty young women skinny-dipping in his pond.
As soon as they noticed him standing there watching, they all shrieked and went deeper into the pond. One of the women shouted to him, “We’re not coming out until you leave, you dirty old man!”
The old man thought for a moment, and then said “I didn’t come down here to watch you ladies swim naked or to make you get out of the pond naked.” Holding the bucket up, he said “I’m just here to feed the alligators.”
And a picture, also not mine.
That’ll tide you over until I return with my tales of wonder from the magical lands of the Detroit suburbs.