Tuesday, September 11th, 2012
How do you know when someone is too drunk to function in public? (No, Dear Bloggary, I wasn’t staggering while giggling and asking people if I was walking straight…at all. It was a rhetorical question.) My answer would be, when you unzip and pee on the gate of the local garden centre in front of your wife, kids and dog. (Yes, dear Bloggary, that actually happened.) And when told that the establishment had facilities you yell f**k off, also in front of said family. I’ve always thought I was a little less than classy, but next to this sot, I’m a friggin’ Royal. (Yes, Dear Bloggay, if I were a Royal, I would introduce you to Wills and Kate…but not Harry. He’s too busy running around nude…possibly peeing on fences.)
What a day yesterday! Over 75 mm of rain on already saturated ground, flash flooding, dike breakage, evacuations, road closures, a rash on my arms… (No, Dear Bloggary, the rash has nothing to do with the flood, I just thought I’d throw that in because the itching is driving me crazy, right now.) I’m glad my family made it through with relatively little damage. (No, Dear Bloggary, through the flood, they don’t have a rash…that I’m aware of.)
On a more serious note, today is 9/11 and I’ve been remembering the terrible tragedy of eleven years ago, the families of loved ones lost, the bravery of the rescuers, and the generosity of the people in the Atlantic Provinces who housed and fed stranded airline passengers, rerouted here. I don’t want to dwell only on the horrible acts of those few delusional religious extremist and the heartbreaking result, but also on the good, brave, kind people who came together to help their fellow man. If there is one thing of which I am sure, it is that there are more good people in the world than bad. (Thanks, Dear Bloggary, you’re one of the good ones, too.)
So, Dear Bloggary, to sum up, one way or another it has been a pissy few days.