"If You Ever Loved Me........"
These words always preface a plea, and more than likely......you won't like what follows.
Hands down, the best If-you-ever-loved-me has to be a friend's buddy from The Way Back Days.
Someone talked him into going into the service. I don't remember which branch, but it really doesn't matter for this post.
He says that you don't really understand what Desperate is until you open an envelope to find a letter written in ink on tear and snot-stained toilet tissue begging you to get the sender of this missive OUT of the clutches of The Military.
"If You Ever Loved Me" were the very first words committed to the damp tissue.
Consider this a tear-soaked wad of rectal ribbon.
IF YOU EVER LOVED ME, GET ME TO A SANDBAR!
Just drop me off--right by myself--early in the morning, and get me just before dark.
Yeah. I'm gonna need all day.
I usually have a lengthy list of supplies for this Sandbar Fantasy (sandbars are a type of Paradise for us Rednecks) but all I need right now is a place to sit and scream or cry.....or both.
I just want to sit and watch the Ocmulgee roll by between crying jags.
Take me a good ways up the river. I want to hear the birds and the animals moving in the woods. I want to hear cicadas, and fish striking.
I don't want to hear a human voice. Leaving the cell phone at home.
I get sick and tired of being on the go all the time and at everybody else's beck and call. The shape of my backside is beginning to resemble my truck seat, creases and all and I'm not sure that anybody is able to wipe their own backside anymore.
I want to sit on MY ass and dig my toes in the sand. And stay that way.
And since it's MY Fantasy and I'll dream if I want to, I want to spark up a Fat Boy and let it all unravel, before I do. It's almost worth the ticket for trespassing and the misdemeanor weed charges, courtesy the Department of Game And Fish.
There are a few snags in My Sandbar Fantasy:
1.) It will be a Cold Day In Hades before T-Bird would allow that. I don't need to be told about alligators, snakes, two-legged fools, and bein' stupid enough to accidentally drown/shoot myself.
2.) It is now against the law to get out of your boat on the river. Period. It is now considered trespassing. We took an entire family ( four adults and seven kids) for a weekend campout on a sandbar MILES away from everything. We had a blast!
Those days are gone, I guess.
And I have had just about all that I can stand.
It has been weeks since I have had any kind of a break. Between my job, finances, father, kids, and wiping the noses AND tears of everyone that I know, I was very tired and looking forward to some rest. Sunday was gonna be the day for some down-time!
I am so, so very stupid.
That day started off with a trip to the clinic, the quick diagnosis of a possible heart attack for Hubs, and a day spent in the E.R.. It went down the crapper after that, and it's been five days of doctor visits, medications, tests, a bad drug reaction, and yet ANOTHER trip to the E.R.. We still have no clue what is wrong but have it narrowed down to Diabetes, gall bladder, sleep apnea, or severe anxiety. After proving that he does have a bad case of Assholeitis---for which he apologized to the E.R. staff---I have concluded that when he goes it will be Blunt Force Trauma or Lead Poisoning. I just haven't decided yet.
*As a side note, may I respectfully ask the janitorial staff of hospitals to keep blood spatter wiped off of the E.R. walls?
If I was tired before, I am now completely wiped out.
To get just a couple of hours of Peace and Quiet, I hid out in the cemetery with my mother. Instead of Ocmulgee River sand, I parked my ass on Daddy's slab. He ain't under it yet so it's okay.
Nobody will bother me there..............
The co-worker who has been the biggest P. I. A. I have ever had to deal with called my cell to tell me a joke. And a corny one at that. Why? Because Life just doesn't suck enough for me.
All I can think to do now is go sit in the middle of a cotton field somewhere WITHOUT THE CELL PHONE.
Since it's time for the farmers to spray defoliant this is probably a bad idea too. I've been sprayed with cotton defoliant once, and once is too much, if T-Bird's rant was any indicator.
I was watching a fantastic crop duster in a very small, state-of-the-art plane, and I had field-side seats. He was awesome!
I got misted a few times but when he came down the middle of the road about five feet off the ground I was simply amazed and had to watch.
Rest this weekend? Nope. I have to clean Hell Hill today for Daddy, I have to run checks on Bosslady's dog, and T-Bird is still sick. Monday, the office has to be cleaned so we can fire it up Tuesday, bright and early.
Should I go missing next week, I'll be hiding under the bed sucking my thumb.
"If You Ever Loved Me", you won't tell anybody.