Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh! A virtual scream is not nearly as satisfying as a real scream. I’m beyond pissed 😤. I can’t even find words. I thought if I came here and just started typing, a rational argument would form. But the anger keeps me from being rational. Fuck you motherfucker is all I have for now. And dammit the tears. Maybe writing ✍️ out longhand will release the hounds.
If you’re reading this, it means I survived. Survived what? That’d be Return to Office or RTO for short. Or I really wrote this in advance so I wouldn’t break my streak. Yep I’m a sneaky Pete. 😂
On this Thursday, I’m thinking. It’s the only day of the week that I ponder. Oh who am I kidding? I overthink everything every day. But today, I’m feeling some levity.
In the 70s, there was a CB craze. CB = Citizens Band radio. We had an in car version that was portable and an at home version. I vaguely remember what the setups looked like … lots of wires and antenna. Anyway, because we had CBs we also had handles. If you know, you know what I’m talking about and many of you youngsters don’t. Sorry that you missed out on such a wonderful slice of life from the olden days. 😂
Jilly’s handle was 👩🍳 🐻 aka Baker Bear. Because I was my mom’s and mamaw’s lil helper in the kitchen. The bear was for Henrietta my teddy bear 🧸 and/or the smoky bears. Bear = rookie police officer in CB code.
I’ve known some most excellent police officers in my day. Family roles models. Salt of the earth. Good guys. Much love and admiration. They might not even realize what a wonderful influence they had on me. I hit the lottery folks, fer sure.
Alrighty. I’ve got to get crack-a-lackin as ‘they’ whoever ‘they’ are say. 10/4 good buddy. Breaker breaker one nine.