Having to do anything sucks. Today was a blase day where I would like to have sat around the house and seen what kind of poetry came up from the recess of my alert mind, but tired body; but I couldn't do that, as I had several piles of branches, leaves and dirt to pick up to complete my week as lawnboy at my lover's house. I couldn't just go home tomorrow and leave the piles of lawn waste for her to pick up, when she gets home from her "vacation" in California, now could I? It wouldn't be prudent; and I might not get none, huh?!

Early in the week, I was loving the landscaping that I was doing; today it was a chore, and we all know that chores, by their very connotation, are abhorrent. Anyway, I'm whining like a bitch; I got the shit bagged, and only have a few things to put in the ground, before I head back to the city, tomorrow. Oh yeah, I left half a pile to pick up at the last moment. Hunger and sore muscles got the best of me, plus its cold out there again, today. Lawn work is not as fun when it is cold out; I've got a million excuses.

Lovey Dovey is, today, engaged in a far more awful endeavor than I am picking the dandelions and planting the flowers back at her house. She is officially divorced, as of some time today, yeah, but is still wrangling with a man she used to love over who gets what, and who gets stuck with what, and why. She and her lawyer and dickhead and his lawyer are all dressed up nicely, in a lawyer's office somewhere in California, to act like shit to each other. And you wonder why she doesn't want to ever get married again. Maybe she is scared that I'll say I have a stake in her house, because I spent a week raking it and trimming her bushes. Har. Har.

This "blog" is so much like a diary that I doubt that it will ever become the best selling book that I might like to see it become. Oh well. My fucking cell phone is beeping in the other room. The damn thing doesn't work out here in the country, so I don't know why it is beeping; I got the cheap plan. A moment ago, I thought that the beeping noise meant that I had put something in the microwave and had forgotten to go get it. Girlfriend's microwave never lets you off the hook; it beeps eternally until you come empty it. The one I have in my apartment and I get along much better than I do with this one because it only beeps once as a reminder to you that your food is ready, which suits me just fine. A microwave that won't shut up is as bad as a woman who nags; I ain't got time for neither one, darling. My cell phone was beeping because it wanted me to know that I have voice mail. Well, what the fuck, I can't check the voice mail, so why beep at me?

My honey doesn't bitch or nag; she reacts, and I usually create my own dilemmas with her with my own big mouth. There is something inside me that likes to irritate her and when I do, she gets nasty; wouldn't you? If I could just be polite and friendly all the time, then we would have a polite and friendly relationship. I mean the lady is not an angel, but "she's the only one I got."

I'm smiling. Scout turned me onto this pop hip hop duo that borrowed the lines, "she's the only one I got" from some big hit song in the past. I'm not going to mention this group's name, here, because I sent them a My Space shout out and they have ignored me. I mean, they didn't ignore me when I sent them an add me notice, so what's up; too fucking busy to say hey to the K Man. Har. Har. One day I will rule the world. The Queen of England will want to knight me and I'll say, "no way bitch."