My Cat

Boggy thinks that she belongs to me, even though there are four cats in this house and they all belong to my cousin.  Yesterday I noticed that her eyes change color, most of the time her eyes are brown like her fur, but when she goes out by the pool, they turn the prettiest shade of green.  Boggy is being retrained to act more like a cat, as she went through a period where she didn’t use the litter box, but she is much netter now.  We got this tent (shown in picture above) which she had to be put in every night and it became my job to lock her in.  She is the fattest cat in the house and my cousin says that Boggy is too heavy to pick up and her boyfriend is not able to bend all that well.

Boggy seems to enjoy being in the tent, but she also likes the game where I have to chase her around and she runs and hides before I am able to catch her.  My bathroom was under construction recently and I had to check into a motel for a week and my cousin asked me to take Boggy with me.  We bonded and she has become very attached to me.  Since we got new flooring here, Boggy has been staying in the computer room and she has not had an accident in the past two weeks, as she is using the litter box again.  I am hoping that Boggy will soon have free rein of the house again, but that is up to my cousin and of course how well Boggy continues to behave.

Written for Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday where the prompt is to write about whatever is beside you when you read this prompt.

Welcome to the Machine

I have always liked machines and after I got my Associates degree in 1980, I started working with machine control systems.  Machines are polite, as they will sit around as long as they have to waiting patiently till they receive their instructions, then they will do as they are told, unlike most people.  When I first started working with machine controls, I learned relay ladder logic, which is fascinating.  The electrical system is divided up into individual ladder rungs that controls an output.  A rung is a series of conditions called logic and at the end of each rung there is typically a coil at the far right, or this could be a timer.  Relay ladder logic is like reading a book as it starts on the left and you proceed through each component till you reach the right and it also starts at the top and you proceed to the bottom.

This is also called a schematic diagram and if the Normally Open or Normally Closed contact series AND conditions and the parallel OR conditions together produce a true state, then the relay coil will energize and its contacts will change state.  OK, that is probably a lot to grasp for those of you that never studied Electrical Engineering, so I will leave you with this song.

Written for Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday where the prompt is welcome.

Go Figure

I came up with this title yesterday and I figured that if I slept on it, something would come to me, but alas I still have nothing.  I guess I will have to make this into a babbling post where I drone on about something, like what a mess the world is in today.  I am feeling better than I have since I got sick back on February 25th, as I think that all the germs have run their course through my body and there is nothing but blue skies ahead for me.  My cousin asked me to help her with her boyfriend who had slipped when he got out of his bed.  He had been sick for a few days and he was really weak.  My cousin made him some chicken soup, but it was too little, too late.

I went into her bedroom and saw her boyfriend laying on the floor and she asked me if I could help her get him up.  Normally I don’t like to touch anybody, as I suffer with a condition known as haphephobia, but mostly this condition manifests itself with touching men or being touched by other men.  I could see that he was stuck and that he needed help.  He was sweating and he seemed to be out of breath from struggling to sit up, but I went over by him and tried to lift him up.  He was a veritable petri dish of germs and I just wanted to get this over with, but he is also a very big guy and with all of my strength, I was only able to get him to sit up and I could not get him back on his feet again.  My cousin said what are we going to do and I said that we should call the fire department.

The fire truck arrived in about 15 minutes and four young very fit guys were on the truck.  I told them how sick my cousin’s boyfriend was and I suggested that they might want to wear those masks.  They each wore the masks and gloves and they were able to get him back on his feet again.  I offered them a $20 bill and said that they could use it to get a pizza, but they wouldn’t take the money, saying that they were being paid by the city.  I got sick the very next day and after two days of coughing and a bad sore throat, I went to see my doctor.  As you might expect, I have a woman doctor.  I went through five days of Tamiflu treatments and when that did not help, my doctor put me on antibiotics and I took my last pill yesterday.

I guess I am lucky that I did not get sick on a cruise ship, like what has happened to so many others from this coronavirus or Covid-19 fiasco.  That must really suck, saving up your money to go out and enjoy yourself and then end up being confined in your room like a prisoner.  This outbreak really caught us with our pants down and if the outcome makes the world a safer place, than maybe it is worth it, but if we don’t learn anything from this, than maybe the world will be better off being ruled by cockroaches.

Written for Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday where the prompt is figure.

Ectoplasm

I started out with nothing, so I went through the alphabet with aect, bect, cetc, dect, eect, fect, which gave me my first word perfect and I started hoping that I would hit the trifecta.  I kept going with gect, hect and I thought that maybe hect could be used for hectogram, but since I don’t really know what that is, I didn’t have a story.  I went on with iect, and then I got to ject from which I got to eject.  Now maybe I had a story about a secret agent that had an eject button in his car to dispose of bad guys sitting in the front passenger seat, but I rejected that.  The words kept pouring in, inject, object and then I got dissect, inspect, prospect, dialect, rectal, erection and I was doing better than I expected.  Then I thought about writing a story where I join a sect that practices cannibalism, but I didn’t want everyone to lose the little bit of respect that they still have in me.

Written for Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday where the prompt is ect.

She Was an Animal in Bed

She did things that made the earth move under my feet, but it was the sounds that she made in bed that sent me over the edge.  My heart went boom when she walked across the room, she knew just how to touch me to make me melt.  I met her in a barroom in Memphis, she covered me in roses and then she blew my mind.  Marianne Faithfull and Anita Pallenberg knew how to moan and groan, but my girl put them to shame, as she was the only one who could make me feel this way.  She had a thing for making that perfect sound, she would groan, grunt, moan, pant, and squeal, which always made me want to mess around.  She had a gift for articulate language and her voice always touched the right spot for me.

There was the heavy breathing followed by the dirty talk and then came those gushy words of encouragement, “Yes, oh yes, that is the spot”, which always did the trick for me.  She was the poster child for the totally uninhibited woman who used her sexual freedom to express herself.  Under the right circumstances, she just made it happen.  She knew how to synchronize her “Ahh, ahh, ahh” vocalization to the movement of her undulating body.  These sex sounds served as our communication when we were approaching orgasmic bliss.  She let me know what gave her pleasure and enjoyment and these amorphous noises always encouraged me to do it again and again.  Her animal sounds always me feel confident in my abilities, but sometimes I wondered who let the dogs out.

Written for Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday where the prompt is animal sounds.

Dancing Cheek to Cheek

It is best to turn the other cheek, that way you will get hit on both sides of your face and you will have a better chance of ending up being symmetrical and we all know that beauty is symmetry.  Am I supposed to kiss her on the cheek?  I never know how that works and I only do that if it is offered, where someone moves their cheek toward me.  What is with the double cheek kiss, is this only done in certain countries?  You know they give you a cheek to kiss and then turn their head and give you the other?  Is there any meaning to be taken from which cheek is offered first to you?  I guess it is better than the forehead kiss, or the hand or wrist kiss and all of these are better than the ass kiss.

Why does Trump wear so much makeup on his face, as it looks like he cakes that stuff on really thick, which I find distracting.  I guess if my skin was orange that I would probably try something?  Trump has been a blowhard his whole life and maybe he has puckered his cheeks up so many times that it has affected his skin tone.  What is the deal with pinching a baby on its cheeks?  I have never done that, but I have seen people doing it and it is usually accompanied by a “coochee, coochee coo” and followed by laughter.

Written for Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday where the prompt is cheek.

Time for Fandango to Unpack

A stream of consciousness writing challenge is a time for the writer to unpack their thoughts and let their words flow out.  I am not saying that you have to let it all hang out, as you need to be like Sloopy and hang on to what you got, while you are letting some air out of the bag.  I have no clue what in the hell I am writing about, but I am unpacking it and I am going to leave it all out on the field, just like Aaron Rodgers and the Packers did this year.  Now I have moved on and I am thinking about Jeffrey Dahmer who lived in Milwaukee and he packed his refrigerator with human body parts, so he could snack on them later.  OK, I just lost all of my readers, and I am still not done unpacking yet.

I keep getting email from WinZip which is a company that makes software that allows you to compress or decompress files and they call this packing and unpacking.  It is not easy going through airports these days as security checks dictate that you put all of your liquids and gels into a one-quart plastic bag and you also have to take off your shoes and maybe your belt.  I just came back from a trip to North Carolina and I think that airports should provide seats for everyone after the screening, so you can put your shoes back on.

Since I am already all over the place with this post, I will tell you a story about over packing.  When my wife and I first got married, we lived in an apartment that had a communal laundry room that was located in the basement of the building that we lived in.  We had to lug our dirty clothes down there, bringing our own detergent along and lots of quarters for the machines.  It was a dark and nasty place, as we would often see spider webs there, and some of our neighbors were assholes.  We got a timeshare that we used for vacations and it was a brand-new building and we had our own washer and dryer right in our unit.  My wife liked it so much, that she packed extra clothes for our trips, so she could wash then there.

OK, I know that is totally crazy, but you would have gotten a good laugh if you saw me carrying all of the luggage through the airport.  I had worked as a busboy and also as a caddy on a golf course, so I was very adept at handling multiple things at the same time, but I had two bags in my hands and two bags tucked under my arms and I was able to push one along in front of me while dragging one behind me and I had my golf clubs strung around my neck.  I guess you just had to be there to really appreciate this.  It is time for me to pack this post away, but before I do that, I will leave you with this special song.

Written for Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday where the prompt is unpack.