Doomsaying

No doubt about. I am a die-hard contrarian. In the travelling kiddie whorehouse where I received my childhood conditioning, it was normal to hear people contradict themselves in order to win an arguement with someone else. As my psychotherapy progressed and we chisled away the hypocritical aspects of this psychoweird, we were left with a gentler contrarianism. I still can't go with the mainstream consensus very often, but I lost the need to prove *them* wrong. Yes, dear, your phone really is smart. I am properly impressed. I believe you really are the smartest user in the app store. Leave my dumb phone alone. It ain't broke yet. You don't need to understand. It's *my* phone.

Nature is where my contrarian stripes remain bold and just seem to keep getting bolder. When the talking heads are using their finest special crews to offer insight on how to stay safe in the face of the pending disasters, I'm already out looking for a good seat to watch the all-natural show. The majestic power of a storm thrills me even more than Freddy Kruger killing innocent teenagers in their dreams. My favorite thing about inclement weather is that most humans are nestled safely in the Great Indoors. My beloved wild critters, fellow weirdos and I get to have the great outdoors to ourselves. Oh happy day.

The flood warning sirens announcing the arrival of the first snow crest beneath beautiful blue skies yesterday is still ringing in my ears. I am still fighting off images of the spots I had surveyed for the imagined Crest Party and disappointment that my attempts to realize that dream are buried beneath Breach of Contract realities while my exposure to that natural marvel is still limited to talking head reports of doom. gloom and safety precautions. So close and yet so far.

Sleep restless with dreams of running from the "For Your Own Good" faction. Appetite sketchy. Flight instincts roaring. No, I wouldnae run to Texas. Toxic Mom is the best I can do in this condition. May my grandchildren never know Toxic Grandma.