MacArthur, parked

Pitter-patter on the patio.

Huh? Whuh? Rain?

Sheeeeeyit, it must be autumn for reals.

Please don’t wake me, no, don’t shake me, leave me where I am, I’m only sleeping.

The weather widget says 64° at 2 in the peeyem, which is quite a departure from the usual around these parts at that time of day.

It makes for fine napping weather if you have the time for that sort of thing, which Miss Sopaipilla does.

What the hell? She wasn’t expecting a congratulatory phone call from the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation, and neither was I.

Shit. I should’ve taken a nap too. No wonder I keep missing out on the genius grants.


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8 Responses to “MacArthur, parked”

  1. khal spencer Says:

    I was on autopilot when I got dressed this morning. T shirt and shorts, sandals san socks. Got up to the Bomb Factory and it was a drizzling 51 deg F. Hmmm….

  2. Pat O’Brien Says:

    I don’t get it. You are exceptionally creative! All the had to do was read one “Friday Foaming Rant.” Why didn’t they call you? Wassa matta dose guys? You want me to make them an offer they can’t refuse?

  3. Tom Knoblauch Says:

    its my hands that show the time and the slow parade of tears

  4. SAO' Says:

    We’re doing the “90° yesterday, 65° tomorrow” dance here. Pretty sure the word “weather” is derived from something meaning, “whether you wear a Speedo or a parka, you’re going to be wrong half the time.”

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