Today is Tuesday, October 1st. Our government is officially “shut down,” so in like fashion Lucky Dogs will also close…but not ‘til tomorrow. I do not want to be labeled a copy cat, which I find degrading.
But I’m a firm believer in “ya gotta know when to fold ‘em,” and judging by the way it’s raining leaves around here it is definitely time to fold.
Great summer folks—thanks to one and all patrons. You may have noticed how incredibly nice these little rants of mine have been—i.e. no criticisms, all sappy sweet to fellow mankind, blah blah blah.
Well, the season has changed and it appears I’m fresh out of “nice” and practically bursting with sarcasm. So many things I’ve held in—which is incredibly unhealthy—and who can afford to lose their health at a time like this?
Not this gal. Especially when on the brink of being forced to participate in a health care plan that will only succeed in causing angst in my heart. Thanks for looking out for us, Mr. President!
Anyway, I listened with amusement when so many customers confused dog Bucky’s name with hubby Rocky’s name.
I always chuckled when politely correcting them, but for those who know me best there was no confusion at all.
In fact, they totally insist on referring to my husband as Poor Rocky.
So from this moment forward he will be dubbed PR in all future writings.
Lookout PR—I will no longer be too busy to pay attention to your antics. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t notice when your new “forks” arrived? Did ya really?
In my world forks belong next to plates, not on tractor type vessels. And just so ya know, the term Bucket List is not interchangeable with List of Buckets, as in how many you feel you need to own.
Why all these stupid buckets? It’s 2013 for Pete’s sake—can’t we find one universal size bucket to meet all of your bucking needs?
And please, don’t think for one stinking minute that I wasn’t paying attention when you meticulously scrubbed and spit-shined your boy toys.
Now here, folks, is a man that has never, EVER, attempted to clean anything in his beloved bathroom.
What kind of message does that send to your poor wife? News flash, PR—the toilet is a lot smaller than your backhoe, your Deere John, and even your mountain bike. Think of all the time you’ll save!
So I’ve got some super news for you dear husband! This winter you will be introduced to some very special equipment, brand new to you for sure. I will personally purchase your very own little house bucket.
In addition to that great news, how ‘bout this? You’re about to make all kinds of new friends.
Why, there’s Mr. Clean with all his happy little magic erasers, Mr. Pledge and the dust rags, and I wouldn’t dream of leaving out my dear pal old Mop ‘n Glo (with the mop, of course.)
Oh what fun we’re gonna have, bonding like never before. Even more so than when we shovel and haul wood together ‘cuz this will be INSIDE work!
So there you have it. Just like the stores, Christmas before Halloween—a whole new spin on PR.
And you people can’t bust my coolie ‘til spring when hopefully the memory of this end of season tirade will fade.
As always, timing is everything.
