Nothing to Write Home About

It's ridiculous to write a post to say, "I don't have anything to write about." Call me ridiculous. I've earned it just now.


Seriously. Nada. 


Usually I tick off all these little weirdism of life and jot them down in my brainy and think, "I'll write a little story about that weirdness." But as of late, nothing is sticking.


I mean, it's just been typical ordinary blah blah heatwave blah blah ice cream blah blah kittens blah blah around here.  


Tiny Town is the same. I was a little smarter last week than the week before. 


The drive still bites. 


The kittens are soft. Purry has been getting along well with others lately. Girlie has a sniffle. Someone's been throwing up around the house a bit this week. I'd think it's the heat, but we have central air so they don't even know how fucking hot it is outside and they don't even have the decency to say thanks. 


Andy Griffith died and I was super-sad about that. 


I love Anj. That's what he was called on the AG Show, in case you weren't a fan. Barney called him Anj. 


I wish I lived in Mayberry. I wrote a speech once about why the AG Show has endured though the years.  It was a hit and people clapped.  


I went to Mayberry once. Well, it's actually Mt. Airy. And on the way into town, there was this giant electronic billboard that said, "One day only! Andy Griffith in Town! Stop for your Autograph!!" and I was so excited I squealed and clapped and looked around for my autograph-signing pen. And then the billboard said, "April Fool's!!" Because it was April 1st and it was all an insensitive jokie.  But we did eat at Aunt Bea's Kitchen, so that was a small consolation prize. 


So I was sad to learn he died. 


There. Don't ya wish I would have left you with nothing to use up your precious minute instead of cobbling a post out of this?  But I just couldn't leave ya all week without saying, "Hey." 


So hey.