Monday, April 21, 2015

The Gods, without over thinking it, are a perverse bunch with a lousy sense of humor. If I thought about it, I’d probably come to the same conclusion.

Who else would have an office to punish good deeds.

I waited three days for the rains to let up to finish that mowing job. On the afternoon of the third day, a day of night rains, of sunshine, on the afternoon around four in the afternoon, I thought, do the forty five minutes and finish it up.

I climbed onto the tractor and set up. I did note that it seemed to be turning cooler as I drove over to the site and the clouds seemed to be lowering as I dropped the mower, and the wind picked up.

Two rounds later a drop of rain hit me, half a round later I was headed home, soaked to the skin, three layers, cold and miserable. The sky’s opened and I got hissed upon. Job not done. I got home, stripped, showered to bring up the old skin temperature – looked out at clear sky. The rain had stopped.

I finished the job this morning. It was cold and windy. But it is done.


I’m confused and irritated, and comfortable, hunched over my soup bowl as I am and reading the headlines.

Man charged in deaths of man in alley, woman due in court

That did confuse me. I mean, a man is charged, a woman is due in court. The article does finally straighten things out, but it is more than one dead.


From the reaches,

Ten Whiskey

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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