I just learned there was a Golden Age of Piracy. Henry Morgan. Captain Kidd. Calico Jack … Blackbeard was a mess. He terrorised the waters for 2 years before his head was chopped off and displayed on the bow of a ship.
They were an impressive group of horrible individuals.
Finally! I’ve a countdown to my road trip.
I’m getting exciting just thinking about it. I wonder if I should get new wipers for my car before I go … there’s nothing like new wiper blades.
June’s been against type of me. I’m a nomad by nature, and staying put goes against the grain. For whatever reason, my feet have been tethered to this poor wee cottage and only the surrounding miles. Which is odd because I’m not overly fond of where I live, or the heat and humidity that is creeping up on this city. And I long to breathe air from the North.
But here I’ve been, a homebody. Reliably so, like a Swiss watch.
Last time my Brother Paul* stopped in he made light of the fact that I was living a hermit’s life. He should know, he did it for years (that was a snark, doesn’t happen often but it’s there).
*As with all my blog posts, all names have been changed.
At the very least, I’m clean. My clothes are clean. My bedroom is uncluttered. With the help of Louie**, my robot vacuum, my floors are clean. And after being shamed by Harold, the kitchen stovetop is spotless.
My bad. I don’t use the stove much since going low carb. So I hadn’t noticed the three or four dead gnats on the rim of an unused pot sitting on an unused burner. I don’t know if it warranted seven seconds of him staring at the carnage and saying ‘gross’ as he poured himself another Jameson, but that Harold did and the more I thought about it the more I was appalled. That’s the power of the shame. What can you do? Needless to say, the stove top is de-grossed and I’m more aware that even an unemployed cooker needs a tidy.
Back to me … My hair looks fantastic. My skin is glowing. The front porch red flowers have received compliments from strangers passing by. And the fresh ingredients combined in my Greek/Norwegian Salmon salad with my new favourite Castillo de Canena Arbequina Extra Virgin Olive Oil … means I’d confidently offer a bite to anyone who knocks on my door, from the person conducting a survey to Nick Stellino.
So I’ve got it going on, I’m just not going going gone.
Not yet that is.
T minus 7 days to fixing this glitch.
**My robot’s real name.