I view myself as a model of consistency. I do.
When things go well I complain. Mostly, actually, about the lack of direction required to make them occur that way.
When things go wrong, well, I complain. For reasons one may readily see.
Yesterday evening Renters wife called and told me that she and Renter had had diver with Renters mother, both of the women had cooked. They had, Renters wife said, now they had finished eating, some let overs.
Renters Wife, I said, what the hell do you think I am? A Dog? Offering me left overs from your table.
We had, the slightly offended voice said, Green Beans, sliced tomatos,deviled eggs and deep fried cat fish.
It is just sad as hell, I say, that I love fried cat fish. Sad.
She sent Renter over with a covered plate.
From the reaches,