When your Facebook feed gives you stress.

When you decide that over half of your ‘friends’ have gone round the bend.

When there’s almost four months remaining until the election.

It is time to leave the social networking to those who do not care so much.

Oh yeah, and happy anniversary to The Curmudgeon. 43 years. Whoopee do.

I’m afraid he’s lulling us into a false sense of security.

We actually had two days in a row of no loud car stereo shaking the entire house.

It felt good.

I keep hoping (to no avail) that the idiot across the street will move away.

Yesterday, pleasantly passed with him only making a tiny appearance in the morning. He stayed away all day.

The neighborhood settled into a peaceful and pleasant day.

Proof that he alone is the problem here.

Some days I don’t think I’ll ever find joy again.

No happiness, no laughter.

Days drag from one to the next.

Seamless, no beginning no end.

Sleep comes for a few short hours whenever it comes.

When this ends I’ll be alone, as usual.

Nothing changes.

Today I bought a beach chair.

Why?

I liked it. I’ve not seen one I liked more.

And…I will be on a beach in the near future come hell or high water.

I truly believe that I will one day own a beach home and will live there until the end of my days.

Nope. Not me. Never gonna grow up.

My newest toy arrived today to add to my collection.

Yes, I have a bunch of silly toys.

I won a lovely little Target dog squirt gun in an auction to benefit a friend and fellow bull terrier owner.

I’ve already squirted one neighbor with it. LOL! It works well.

Between Lucy freaking out over all the fireworks, the asshole neighbor with his friends doing their best to torment The Curmudgeon all day, and The Curmudgeon griping to me about it…I have had it.

If I had the income to make it alone, I’d be out of here in a heart beat.

Oh hell, one nice lottery win would do it. Yes, that’s it, the old red neck retirement system.

So there’s the rude neighbor giving The Curmudgeon fits because his music is so loud we can’t have the house open on such a nice cool day.

Later the music was still extremely loud, The Curmudgeon was trying to sleep, and he called the police on them.

Yes, he goes to bed early but he has to because he’s exhausted.

Battling secondary progressive Multiple Sclerosis 24/7 is a tiring job he never asked to have. There were no interviews, no applications. Nope. The job was thrust upon him.

Then there are all the idiots who are setting of fireworks and making Lucy a wreck. Gee, thanks you knuckle dragging imbeciles.

I is going to hide in my crate forever.

My house is filthy. I admit it. I have neglected it something awful. I feel helpless to get it done but I am trying.

I have not had the energy to clean as thoroughly as I should for a few years now. I look at all that needs doing and just hide from him and everyone else and cry.

Most of it stems from my back hurting so bad all the time. (I have, on too many occasions, hurt it getting The Curmudgeon up from the floor.) I can only do so much and then I have to sit down to ease the pain.

I don’t have the time or energy to run back and forth to the doctor for my back and my numb arm. My Tens machine can only help so much.

Therefore, my house is dirty.

I try but I can’t seem to get it clean enough to begin to keep up with it. then I get depressed and don’t even want to be here.

As of lately, I am working on clearing out the back porch. I have hopes of managing to do each room of the house and then finding a way to keep up with the mess.

So now my garden gets neglected. Sigh.

Then there’s the attic, I need to hire someone to do it. I know that room is way beyond me. The mess from the roofer is more than I can handle.

Yesterday’s shirt