Apparently I’ve been going about this “life” thing all wrong.
When I found myself ringing bells and no one came to bring me my tea and sugar cookies I HAD to ask who it was that had tended to me all these years, and what do you mean we live in a servantless household? Who was that person bringing me my snacks and putting on my fucking socks?
There will be no more tepid baths in sparkling mineral water or hair conditioner squeezed from the loins of fourteen supple virgins. I can no longer count on rides around the park in my golden rickshaw or hours of pampering from my well-trained personal staff.
It’s time to jump into action. Watch me rise up out of my goose down pillow laden bed and make a decision to take the world by the horns again and go………DOGSLEDDING?
Yeah, that’s right. As is always the case when bad timing and poor judgement collide and run down the street holding hands like new lovers I’ve picked a grand activity to hurl me out of my uberfunk.
It’s hard to imagine a less likely candidate for gleefully racing through the rough terrain of western Maryland running my team of wild dogs like the mountain woman you all envision me to be.
What if I fall off a cliff?
What if a rabid fox chases me and I can’t run away fast enough?
What if my imagination goes off on a wild tangent like it did at the beginning of this blog post and I start pretending that I’m some sort of royal queen who is on her way to her manor house in the countryside and I end up in Pennsylvania?
Sadly, I cannot give you the answers to any of these pressing questions NOR can I manage toss you a proper end to this blog as a wrap up is impossible. So I’ll tip my hat to the art of departure and see you when I return.