Too Many Ideas…

When the Mania starts, I have too many ideas of things to write about, and too little time in the manic phase to actually write it all down. This being said, I have had an idea for two more books. How annoying. Will I write them? Will I finish them? Or, like so many other great ideas, will I start and then forget them?

Yeah, it’ll be the last one of these. Probably. If I could actually finish a book, I might be a successful writer. That’d be fun.

I’ve done some house work. I’ve mowed most of the grass. These things are easy in manic phase. If I can focus long enough, that is. Mrs. M has been away. She will be home in a few minutes, and will no doubt have critical remarks about what I haven’t completed.

God help me. I know that she loves me in her way. Which is to say, she loves me in a similar way as her dad loved me. She wants my best always, but I can’t achieve that. I can give my best some of the time. The rest is anyone’s guess.

It’s time to face the music. Pray for me. Pray hard.🙄🤣

My Life is Just Another Bad Country Song

1 My dad just died, a malpractice suit, sure,

But his kidneys were shot; there was no quick enough cure,

For that, his diabetes, or his stubbornness:

He chose to go, after a medical mess,

We told the doc what we wanted, but he refused,

And after we were ignored, and dad was abused,

Dad said to let him go; and if that wasn’t a bitter enough pill,

I’ve got to wonder how the hospital could dare send a bill.

2 Verse two was less lethal: I lost my job that was a wreck,

It’s been about six months, but I ain’t seen a check:

The unemployment claims people are dragging their feet,

Over paperwork, CoViD, and conditions to meet,

I’m old and frustrated, and I want to work,

I’d become self-employed if the boss wasn’t a jerk,

If it wasn’t for my wife’s job, and having charity to bless,

By now, we’d be out on the street, homeless.

3 There’s no train in the rain, no pickup truck,

But my car needs tires: one’s as flat as my luck,

If I could hop a train, I’d have nowhere to run,

Besides, who but me should have to deal with this much fun?

My dog loves my daughter’s boyfriend more than me,

And my wife, despite my housework, stays frustrated with me,

As if it’s my own fault life’s doin’ me wrong,

My life’s just another bad country song.

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